Question Mark
by Icy Mike Molson
Summary: (No, it couldn't be finished...)Alexei Karamov's pack of Shadow Lords has picked up a young girl, but the biggest problem is not the pack of demented, sadistic Black Spiral Dancers that want her. Alexei would really like to know why they want her...
1. Retrieval

  
  
Once, the building had been a church, a bastion of the morally upright and the spiritually devout in the city of New York. Dominating West Twentieth Street on corner of the Avenue of the Americas, the building retained much of its Catholic design. Brown stonework made up the exterior walls, remarkably untouched by graffiti. The wide double doors that opened onto Twentieth Street were still painted in brilliant crimson. Even the stained glass windows remained intact, showing glimpses of Saints and holy figures through flashes of light from the interior. Once, it had been a grand place of worship for lower Manhattan.  
  
Now, worship continued at the old church, but worship of a far different sort. Heavy, fast paced industrial music rose to deafening levels, shaking the thick panes of the leaded glass. Colored light flashed spasmodically through the old windows, distorting the depictions of saints and holy men into something demonic. The double doors of the church front opened regularly, allowing glimpses into a dark pit of seething humanity, while the few comprehensible lines of the music boldly proclaimed the death of God to the world. Catholics had been replaced by Satanists and atheists waiting in line at the narrow entrance set on the left side of the old building.  
  
To Alexei Karamov, Catholics and Satanists meant nothing to him, nor did the current condition of the defiled church known to the people of Manhattan as the Limelight. As his black Lexus pulled to the curb of West Twentieth Street, Karamov peered through the passenger side window of the vehicle, absorbing every detail of the church and the young crowd waiting to gain entrance. The line was long, but not overly so, dominated by teens and young twentysomethings decked out in skin tight black vinyl and leather, their hair alternately long or short, dyed in a range of colors from midnight black to pale white. Pale white makeup and black lipstick and nail polish completed the ensembles of both men and women, decked out in their most Gothic clothing for a Saturday night break from the real world. Alexei Karamov took stock of the crowd waiting at the door, and sighed in resignation. Slowly he turned to the driver of the car.  
  
"Should I come in with you, sir?" the driver asked. He was a younger man, only in his early twenties, with sharp hazel eyes and light brown hair swept back from his handsome face. Although it was nearly imperceptible, Alexei could pick up on the apprehension   
  
"And how far do you think you would get with the Glocks tucked under your suit jacket, Max?" Alexei inquired with a slight smirk.  
  
"I don't always have to use the Glocks," Max stated. Alexei's smirk broadened ever so slightly. "And, in situations like these, firepower is sometimes unwarranted."  
  
"That's quite alright," Alexei stated, turning to the door. "I prefer to handle this myself. Just have the car running and ready to go when I come out."  
  
"Not a problem," Max said with a nod. Alexei Karamov opened the passenger door of the Lexus, and stepped out onto the curb.  
  
Alexei took one more look at the door crowd, whatever humor he had shown to his driver fading into stony stoicism. Once he entered the club, he would be easily identifiable by his mere appearance. While the typical clubgoer was no older than twenty-four, Alexei was thirty-four. Sharply contrasting their Gothic hairstyles, Alexei kept his brown hair cut short and neatly parted on the left side. Many of the clubgoers tried to appear menacing or devious, but something in Alexei's piercing, cold blue eyes ran far deeper than the shallow poseurs around him. No makeup marred his face or fingernails. Finally, and most strikingly, Alexei dressed in a simple, charcoal gray suit and knee length woolen overcoat, a far cry from the wild dress codes that the clubgoers adhered to. Despite his out of place, conservative appearance, Alexei Karamov strode purposefully to the entrance, bypassing the line completely on his way to the front doors. The Goths waiting in line watched him pass with mixed anger and curiosity, but his confident demeanor and his radically different appearance kept them from saying anything at all to him. Alexei walked into the tiny foyer without so much as a look over his shoulder, stopping only as he met the bouncer at the base of a narrow staircase leading up into the Limelight. He was a large man, slightly pot bellied but still powerfully built, his skin as black as night and his hair loosely organized into dreadlocks. Standing a shade under six feet tall, Alexei still had to look up to the bouncer as the man got in his way.  
  
"Hold your arms out," the bouncer instructed. Alexei did as he was told, and the bouncer quickly ran a metal detector up and down each side of his body. Finding nothing metallic under the knee length overcoat, the bouncer waved Alexei past, and he started easily up the stairs, his stoic, confident look still in place. At the top of the staircase, nearly hidden in the darkness of the antechamber at the top of the staircase, Alexei wordlessly turned over the twenty-five dollar cover charge, ignoring the curious and slightly indignant stare of the weasely looking girl taking door fees. With his cover paid and his hand stamped with black light ink, Alexei turned to the narrow double doors of the Limelight, and pushed them open.  
  
Deafening music assaulted him as he walked into the narrow, winding hallway that led to the first of many bars set up inside the labyrinthine Limelight. Flashes of blue and green light swept over him at quick, irregular intervals as he walked past the badly beaten vinyl couches lining the wall to his right. Some clubgoers that rested on the couches watched the out of place, middle aged businessman walk past, many most remained in their own private worlds of sex, drugs and alcohol. Couples ground against each other in dark corners, while another pair of girls that could be no older than seventeen dropped hits of XTC openly in front of him. Alexei walked through the circus around him with no trace of emotion, or even acknowledgement. He made his way to the bar and dropped a ten on the counter, ignoring the seductive wink of a girl with dyed black hair and a skin tight vinyl dress two stools away. The bartender gave him his requested drink after another moment, and Alexei Karamov made his way back through the crowds with a bourbon neat. Reaching the rail of the second level, Alexei Karamov found himself gazing out over a sea of writhing, gyrating youngsters, dancing wildly to the bizarre looking, industrial metal band on the performance stage. Alexei's piercing blue eyes swept across the tiers and dance floor of the Limelight, searching the murky, indistinct crowds for one specific person.  
  
Alexei found his mark as he looked up to the highest tier across the club. Partially hidden by the flashing lights and the people around her was a fifteen year old girl, her brown hair remarkably undyed despite the black lipstick, leather halter top, and spiked dog collar that she wore. The girl seemed almost frightened of the scene around her; her dark eyes darted from side to side quickly as she shrank back on the tattered black couch set against the far wall. Alexei watched her for a long moment, making certain that this was the girl he had come for, then placed his untouched drink on the flat wooden rail and started for the steps that ran down to the main dance floor.  
  
From his vantage point on the stairs, Alexei could still see over the entire dance floor, but he also became painstakingly obvious to the people around him. Still Alexei descended the stairs with a confident stride, his steps measured and even. From the middle of the dance floor, movement caught his eye even through the abyss of Goths and punks. Another man, dressed in a studded leather jacket and wearing black shades, was fighting his way through the crowds, pushing frantically for the narrow metal stairs that led to the far tiers and the girl that waited atop them. Keeping his steady pace, Alexei made his way calmly through the dancing crowds, gently pushing obstacles aside as they appeared. In slightly over a minute he had made his way to the stairs, but within that time two huge, crew cut men had come to stand in the way. Each man was a mountain of steroid enhanced muscles, their necks lost in their overdeveloped shoulders and chests. Alexei came to a momentary stop in front of them, sizing up his ogre sized opponents.  
  
"No admittance," one said, folding his massive arms across his chest. The other sneered slightly, making him look overly stupid.  
  
"Excuse me," Alexei said simply, starting to cut between the two men. The speaker shoved him back with an open palm. Alexei stumbled back a step, and leveled an angry glare on the two men. Shadows deepened and stretched around him, while his eyes lit with a chill blue fire. Everything about Alexei became ten times more frightening, and even the two musclebound bouncers hesitated in fear. His icy, fearful demeanor in place, Alexei placed one hand on each man's shoulder, and pushed them stiffly out of the way. The two bouncers looked on in fear and awe as Alexei began to climb the tiers. Alexei did not even look back to confirm that his two opponents would not try to attack from behind; the power of the Icy Chill of Despair would hold them at by until long after he was gone.  
  
Alexei continued his ascent with a steady pace, ignoring the few people on the lower tiers. He was close to his goal now, and could see the man that he had spotted on the dance floor racing up one last flight of steps to the uppermost level. Alexei brushed his overcoat back casually with his right hand, and ascended the final stairs.  
  
The upper tier widened from the narrow steps into a large, open landing, bounded on two sides by the wall of the building and on the other two by chrome railing. Metal post ran up to the ceiling from the railing, holding the tier firmly in place. The girl sat huddled on a couch directly opposite Alexei, wrapped up in one arm of a large, imposing man wearing a black suit and tie with a blood red dress shirt. His black hair was long and slicked back on his head, revealing overly large, pointed ears. The man's dark eyes held an almost insane light as he listened to the leather clad man speaking in a panicked tone from where he knelt next to the battered black couch. Another three men were present on the tier, all leering at Alexei with wicked smiles. One, a fat, greasy man dressed in a disgustingly tight black turtleneck and pants, sat to his left in a destroyed floral print armchair. Another sat perched on the railing, this one a painfully thin Korean wearing narrow mirror shades and a number of silvery necklaces over his black, smiley face adorned tank top. The final one leaned against the edge of the couch. He was also thin, but not so much so as his Asian comrade, with spiky, bleached white hair and an array of piercings and studded bands around his arms, wrists, and neck. The man from the dance floor turned back as the suit on the couch gave his attention to Alexei, and he jumped back in fear.  
  
"Well, Karamov, fancy seeing you here," the suit stated, smiling up at his new visitor. Alexei glared at the man for a moment, then turned to the girl.  
  
"Let's go," Alexei ordered simply. The girl started to stand, but the suit grabbed her arm and forced her back onto the couch.  
  
"Smiley, escort Mister Karamov out," the suit stated, turning to the Korean. Smiley dropped down off of the railing, a toothy grin coming to his face as he strutted over to Alexei. Alexei glanced down for a brief instant, noting the Korean's slightly curled fist, then glanced up to the man's face again.  
  
Smiley lashed out with his right hand, bringing a switchblade to bear, but Alexei had already planned on just such a move. Stepping to his right, Alexei grabbed the man's wrist in his left hand and threw him forward, ringing Smiley off of the metal post next to the staircase. Smiley bounced back off of the post, spitting out teeth, but already Alexei had whirled around him, his right hand producing a huge knife from a hidden sheath on his back and slamming it through the man's back. Smiley gasped in pain, then fell to the ground as Alexei yanked the sixteen inch, overly wide blade from his spine. Alexei turned back on the suit and his three remaining lackeys, Smiley's blood dripping down off of the length of the jagged klaive of black glass that he wielded.  
  
"Get him!" the suit screamed in rage. Alexei turned to the white haired lackey first, seeing the young man bounce to his feet with incredible quickness and drawing a fighting knife of his own. The punk lashed out as he raced in on Alexei, forcing him back a step to the stairs as he quickly blocked his opponent's knife. Wielding his blade underhanded, Alexei practically rested the wide flat of the blade against his forearm as he parried off four lightning slashes of the punk's knife, the odd sound of metal striking glass making a clacking noise that was not quite drowned out by the music below. Spinning his blade quickly around the punk's smaller knife and reversing his grip on the hilt for the briefest instant, Alexei launched a counterstrike of his own. The glass blade swept out quickly along the punk's throat, drawing a line of crimson in its wake. The punk fell back with a pathetic gurgle even as the fat lackey charged in, swinging a chain at head height. Alexei easily ducked under the wild swing and twirled around his obese opponent, quickly disemboweling the suit's third henchman. Alexei turned back on the suit and the man from the dance floor, but the latter of the two raced back and jumped over the side of the tier, taking his chances on climbing down the side rather than face the deadly knife wielder. Slowly the suit stood up, drawing a pitted, two foot long dagger from the side of the couch. Seething with rage he stalked forward. Alexei shifted his weight back to his rear leg, dropping into a defensive crouch and holding his blade in front of him.  
  
The suit bellowed in rage, his human voice rapidly devolving into a canine howl as his body exploded in oily, uneven black fur. He shot up from just over six feet to nine feet and more in height, his body rippling with muscles as he took on the visage of an insane werewolf. The girl shrieked in fear, leaping back into the corner of the couch, but Alexei seemed unfazed by the sudden transformation of his enemy. The werewolf lunged forward, ready to crush Alexei beneath his weight and impale him on his pitted blade.  
  
The werewolf reached Alexei in a heartbeat, but within that time Alexei had also sprouted rich, deep brown fur and grown to match the suit in size and stature. Metal and glass met with a tortured shriek as Alexei parried his opponent's first strike away, his eyes still calm and blue despite his ferocious appearance. The insane werewolf charged in again and again, hacking and flailing with his blade, but Alexei's mystical klaive of glass flashed about him, creating an impenetrable wall in a classical defensive posture. Beating at Alexei's defenses furiously, the insane werewolf locked blades with his opponent and started to force the slightly smaller Alexei back, each one snarling and snapping at the other. Alexei forced a turn at the last moment and separated from his opponent, dropping back towards the girl on the couch. As he had used the Icy Chill of Despair on the ground floor, Alexei called upon the gifts of his tribe of werewolves, the Shadow Lords, once again, this time to analyze his opponent's fighting style for a weakness. The insane werewolf closed almost immediately, and Alexei dropped low, striking a deep wound across his opponent's chest. Howling in pain and fury, the insane werewolf stumbled backwards, putting one hand to his side.   
  
Alexei tried to press the attack, but he was an instant too slow to beat his opponent. Calling upon the gifts of the tainted Black Spiral Dancers, the insane werewolf seared his injury shut, putting himself back into the fight even as Alexei brought his klaive down in a terrible blow. The Black Spiral Dancer skipped backwards, taking nothing more than a nick to his shoulder, and Alexei rolled away to the right before the pitted klaive of his opponent found its way to his side. The Black Spiral Dancer howled again and charged in, his blade cutting into Alexei's thigh as he sprang away. Falling back another step, the Shadow Lord once again took up a defensive posture, using his steel wall tactic again as the Black Spiral Dancer once more beat in frustration at his defenses. Finally, the insane werewolf drew back and slammed his klaive down in a greeat blow of his own, determined to shatter Alexei's stifling parries.  
  
Alexei had expected, even hoped for, the monstrous attack, and dodged quickly to the Black Spiral's right even as he slammed his klaive into the floor. Quickly Alexei slashed away twice, scoring two more deep gashes through his opponent's side. Howling again in pain, the Black Spiral fell back towards the staircase, one hand on his side and the other holding his klaive in a weak defensive posture. Alexei stalked forward, ready to strike the killing blow, but the Blackl Spiral turned to the reflections in the chrome railing and pushed his way into the Umbra, the spirit world that reflected reality. Alexei made a move to follow his enemy, but then turned back to the girl, shrinking back to his human form as he did so. The girl shrank back on the couch as far as she could, terrified of Alexei and the thing he had become.  
  
"Let's go," Alexei stated a second time. He sheathed his blade on his back under his untouched overcoat, then held out his hand to the girl. "This will be explained to you soon enough."  
  
The girl hesitated for a long moment, but finally she crept forward, taking Alexei's hand. The Shadow Lord turned and started down the staircase, his eyes now on every shadow and corner of the Limelight as he reached the ground floor. The two musclebound bouncers were gone, but he could see in the recesses of the wildly dancing crowds eyes upon him and his new companion. The eyes followed him as he led the girl to the large, red doors that would lead out onto Twentieth Street, but none made a move to stop him. Alexei remained wary of the eyes as he pushed open the doors, pulling the girl out onto the street. As he walked down the steps and onto the sidewalk, his black Lexus pulled up along the curb, and Max pushed the front door open. The girl glanced nervously around her for a moment, until Alexei opened the back door and gestured for her to get into the vehicle. Once she accepted the invitation, Alexei took his place in the passenger seat of the car, and Max pulled away from the curb.  



	2. Twenty Questions

"Welcome to our world, Miss Farron."

"Who… who are you?" Brooke Farron asked tentatively, watching the two men standing before her. Karamov, if she properly remembered his name from the Limelight, smiled slightly as he turned to the darkly tinted windows of his corporate office. From the view of the skyline, Brooke could only be certain that they were somewhere in midtown Manhattan; Karamov's driver, the younger man standing near the oaken double doors of the office, had taken a dizzying array of streets to reach the underground garage where they had finally parked. After considering the skyscrapers outside his office for a moment, Karamov turned back on the girl sitting in the black leather captain's chair at the head of the ebony meeting table. Karamov's slight smile remained in place as he studied Brooke for a long moment, but the smile was far more predatory than amiable. "Where are we?"

"Safe," Karamov replied, answering her second question. He clasped his hands behind his back, and walked over to small wet bar set against the opposite wall. He continued speaking as he took a bottle of bourbon from the bar and carefully poured a glass for himself. "Tell me, Miss Farron, what exactly were you doing at the Limelight tonight with Xavier DeLeon?"

"We… we were on a date, pretty much," Brooke replied, hesitant. Despite the fact that she wanted nothing more than to get away from the Russian, there was no place she could go, and the simple recollection of the terrifying werewolf that he had become during the fight in the Limelight kept her rooted to her chair. "What do you want with me?"

"Miss Farron, I don't really want anything with you," Karamov replied, turning around and acting almost surprised that he had to explain that fact to the girl. "But evidently, Xavier DeLeon wants something to do with you, and that I can't allow."

"Why?" Brooke asked. "What's going on?"

"Miss Farron, whether you knew about it or not before tonight, you are now involved in a war that no normal mortal knows about," Karamov replied. "Xavier DeLeon is part of a tribe of werewolves, Garou, as we call ourselves, known as the Black Spiral Dancers. In order to simply things for you, let us consider the Black Spirals to be the enemy."

"Enemy of what?" Brooke asked.

"The enemy of you, of me, indeed of every living thing," Karamov replied. "I am part of a tribe of werewolves known as the Shadow Lords."

"And… you're the good guys?" Brooke asked, a skeptical tone to her voice. Alexei's smile widened ever so slightly, but took on a definitely frightening quality.

"Miss Farron, good and bad are two words that have very little relevance on the situation at hand," Karamov explained. "I do not have the time or the patience for a full theological dissertation on Wyrm, Weaver, and Wyld, so leave it at this. The Wyrm is the destroyer, the keeper of balance between the other two, but recently he hasn't been doing his job correctly. We're trying to stop him from destroying everything on earth. The Black Spiral Dancers, on the other hand, are trying to help the Wyrm to succeed."

"But what does this have to do with me?" Brooke asked. Karamov took a sip from his bourbon before he continued.

"That's what we're going to find out," the Russian remarked, his smile growing slightly more amiable. "Tell me, how long have you known Xavier DeLeon?"

"I… a week or two," Brooke answered.

"And how did the two of you meet?" Karamov asked.

"At… a party," Brooke replied. "I… he was at this party in SoHo, and we just… he came over and asked… well, we kind of… hooked up."

"And this did not seem odd to you?" Karamov inquired. Brooke turned a confused look on the Russian.

"Odd?" the girl repeated.

"Miss Farron, you are fifteen," Karamov pointed out. "Xavier cannot be any younger than twenty-five. Weren't there any other girls at this party? Someone closer to his age?"

"Well, yeah," Brooke answered. "But… I mean, I can get a date too. It's not all that odd."

"Of course," Karamov said in a condescending tone. "So you and Xavier 'hooked up'."

"Well, yeah," Brooke confirmed.

"And what does 'hooking up' constitute?" Karamov asked, continuing the methodical interrogation.

"Excuse me?" Brooke said.

"What does 'hooking up' constitute?" Karamov repeated. "How far did you go?"

"Why… what do you need to know that for?" Brooke asked, her anger with the question tempered by the image of Karamov's bestial werewolf form replaying in her mind.

"The Black Spiral Dancers have many prophecies about people bearing children that will turn the tide of the wear," Karamov explained. "It is possible that Xavier wanted you because you were somehow pointed out to him in a prophecy or vision of some sort."

"You mean… I'm going to have a kid?" Brooke asked. Karamov sighed slightly as he rolled his eyes.

"That is what I'm trying to find out," the Russian stated, a hint of irritability sneaking into his voice. "Would you please answer the question?"

"We… nothing, much," Brooke answered, growing increasingly anxious. "I mean, we didn't do that much."

"I see," Karamov stated. "And had you seen him again before tonight?"

"Twice," Brooke answered. "He picked me up from school."

"And, nothing significant happened between the two of you?" Karamov pressed.

"No," Brooke answered. "Nothing significant."

"And was there any significance to tonight's date?" Karamov inquired.

"No," Brooke replied. "Nothing. Just… he said he could get me into the Limelight. And I'd always wanted to go there. But his friends… I'd never… they really scared me. And then you showed up, and then… the werewolves…"

Brooke trailed off, losing her words as the night's details flooded back and threatened to overwhelm her. Brooke wanted nothing more than to go home, or to wake up and find that the whole night had been a dream. Karamov waited for a moment, letting the girl collect her thoughts.

"Do your parents know about this?" the Russian finally prompted.

"No," Brooke answered. "They… never would have let me go."

"Of course," Karamov said. "Tell me, do you know anything at all about your new boyfriend?"

"Well, I…" the girl started. She stopped as she realized that she knew almost nothing about the man. She had been so caught up in the relationship that she had never really taken many opportunities to learn anything about Xavier. On the rare occasions that she had asked anything about him, Xavier had shifted the conversation easily away…

"From your silence, I gather the answer is no," Karamov surmised. Brooke nodded.

"Please tell me you know what's going on," the girl said, praying that she would wake up from this nightmare.

"I know that you will not be going home until I find out why Xavier wants you," Karamov stated.

"You're…holding me hostage?" Brooke asked, a sudden wave of vertigo overtaking her.

"Think of it as witness protection," Karamov countered, flashing his terrifying smile once more. "Mister van der Waal will take you to meet a person that will be able to give you a room for the next two or three nights, until we sort this out. Your parents will be notified that you are being detained by police as a witness to some very sensitive crimes. Your school will also be notified that you will not be in for the next few days."

"Please just let me go home," Brooke pleaded. Karamov shook his head.

"I'm afraid that is not an option now," the Russian stated. He turned back to the windows, swirling his half empty glass slightly as he watched the skyline. "Please, Miss Farron, follow Mister van der Waal."

Brooke hesitated for a long moment, but then finally turned to Karamov's driver. Mister van der Waal, at the least, did not possess that intimidating, predatory smile. In fact, as the younger man gestured for Brooke to follow him, he seemed almost friendly. Finally, left without any other alternative, Brooke followed Karamov's driver out of the office.

___________________________________

Alexei Karamov gazed across the skyline of midtown Manhattan in silence, pondering his brief and ultimately fruitless interrogation. Brooke Farron knew nothing about Xavier in particular or of the Black Spiral Dancers in general, and at first glance the entire situation seemed pointless. But one fact kept Alexei from turning the girl loose without a second thought, and that was her immunity to the Delirium. Most mortals could not even look upon a werewolf in the crinos form without suffering from the paralyzing fear of the Delirium, and afterwards would force themselves to forget that they had seen an actual werewolf. The Delirium had kept the Garou tribes from being revealed to mortal society, allowing them to wage their war in secret and without the witch hunts that would inevitably spring from the knowledge that werewolves did indeed exist. There were only two exceptions to the rule of the Delirium. A mortal with exceptionally strong force of will could possibly break free of the Delirium, but such mortals were exceedingly rare, and Alexei truly doubted Brooke had the willpower to accomplish such a feat. The only other mortals immune to the Delirium were kinfolk, the human relatives of the Garou. As far as Karamov could tell, Brooke was not a kinfolk, but there was still a slight possibility of an unknown genealogical link. Such a link would also do more to explain Xavier's interest in the girl. Kinfolk were more likely to bear a Garou child, and the Black Spiral tribe was rife with prophecies of children that would bring about victory for the fallen werewolves. Alexei took another sip of his bourbon as he considered the possibilities, finally turning away from the windows as he heard the office doors open. Max shut the door behind him as he entered the room, then turned to the Russian.

"I turned the girl over to Tanya," Max said. Alexei nodded slightly. "Do you think she's worth anything to us?"

"To us, no," Alexei answered. He paused for a moment, then continued. "But she must be worth something to Xavier. We need to find out more about her."

"I can check with my contact in the Records Office," Max offered. "Maybe we can dig up something interesting about her or her family there."

"Possibly, but I am beginning to doubt that," Alexei replied. "She seems not to be tainted by the Wyrm, and as far as I can tell, there is nothing extraordinary about her in any way. But I also doubt that Xavier is the only person interested in the girl on the other side."

"We only found out about her by chance," Max reminded the Russian, joining him by the windows. "I mean, it was a fluke that we found out about Xavier's date with her through the fomori nest in SoHo. She could be just another random victim, for all we know."

"But if she was, then the fomori would never have known about her," Alexei pointed out. "There's something to this that we aren't seeing."

"Maybe we're looking too hard," Max suggested. Alexei shrugged slightly, and turned back to the skyline. "Maybe we're wrong about this one."

I'm surprised at you, Max," Alexei said with a vague smile, turning to the younger man. "You should know by now that I'm never wrong."

___________________________________________

Xavier DeLeon stumbled into his murky, silent apartment, pushing the door shut behind him with his back. Finally inside the safety of his home, Xavier let out a gasp of pain, and removed his bloody hand from the torn, blood soaked side of his crimson dress shirt. Slowly Xavier felt his way through the darkness of his cluttered apartment, guiding himself along the old, Beaten Zenith that dominated the right side of his living room. On the opposite side of the room, the two tall, narrow windows that looked out over Vestry Street were largely shielded by heavy vermilion curtains, allowing only two narrow slivers of light to fall across the old, worn gray carpeting. Dominating the center of the room, Xavier's battered, black velvet sofa was barely visible at the end of the slivers of light. Xavier dropped back onto the soft cushions of the couch in the darkness, trying to find a moment of respite from the pain. Slowly he reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a bottle of pills, hoping that his tranquilizers would take the edge off of his injury.

"My poor, poor Xavier," a silky, soothing voice said from somewhere in the darkness. Xavier tried to stand quickly, but his injuries forced him from moving quickly. Before he could get back to his feet and draw his pitted klaive, a soft hand brushed his cheek from behind him. "I do hope you will be alright, Xavier."

"Nigel?" Xavier gasped out, freezing with the caress. The dark apartment seemed to chill noticeably, and what little light had crept in through the curtains of his windows practically vanished.

"It is," Nigel said, his voice almost hypnotic. "You are alone tonight, Xavier. Did you send the girl away simply for my company tonight?"

"Karamov… took her," Xavier said hesitantly. Nigel's soft caress stopped midway up his cheek. "I don't know how he even knew about the girl, but-"

"Alexei," Nigel said, cutting the Black Spiral Dancer off with a wistful sigh. "Tell me, Xavier, was he as handsome as he always is?"

"He took the girl," Xavier repeated, a bit more forcefully this time. "How did he even know about her?"

"Xavier, did you not have Axelsson, Smiley, Bratzke, and Mercer with you tonight?" Nigel inquired, running his hand through Xavier's hair.

"He… Christ, he moved so quickly," Xavier blurted out, trying to defend his failure. "And Bratzke was worthless! He fucking ran like a coward!"

"I feel your rage, your frustration," Nigel said quietly, whispering in Xavier's ear. The Black Spiral tried to stand, but Nigel's soft caress suddenly transformed into a steely, taloned grip on his neck from behind. "But you, you are an ahroun, a warrior of the Black Spirals, and gifted with a klaive," Nigel continued, his voice remaining silky and quiet. "Alexei is a judge, a philodox, and certainly should not be a match for a mighty warrior of the Wyrm such as you."

"He… is a powerful fighter," Xavier said, nearly choking on the statement.

"Yes, he is," Nigel said. His grip faded away on Xavier's neck, but the Black Spiral did not try to stand a second time. "But we need her, Xavier. You need her, and I need her. We need her."

"I know," Xavier replied, a knot of fear welling up in his stomach. "I'll… get her back. My pack is strong. We can find her."

"I know you can," Nigel said, practically breathing the words into Xavier's ear. The chill in the room heightened as Nigel's lips brushed the tip of Xavier's pointed ear, sending a shiver down the Black Spiral's spine. "Do so."

"I will," Xavier said, his voice quavering slightly. For a long moment the Black Spiral waited, expecting some further comment from Nigel, but his pitch black apartment had gone deathly silent. Finally Xavier stood slowly and nervously scanned his apartment, but the room was once again empty.


	3. A Little Light Research

Despite the bright, early morning sun blazing in a cloudless, late March sky, Alexei Karamov managed to keep his office fairly dim from his darkly tinted glass and partially drawn shades. The Shadow Lord had arrived to his office at almost twenty minutes to ten, but the middle partner of Zarecki, Karamov and Sadowski was allowed certain leeway in conducting his business. Both of Alexei's partners were kinfolk to the Shadow Lords, and despite John Zarecki's seniority by almost twelve years of legal practice, the simple fact that Karamov was a philodox of the Shadow Lords put him firmly in control of the law firm. While it certainly brought greater prestige and wealth to the Shadow Lord, leading the law firm and conducting a war against the Wyrm also provided more than a few headaches.

Alexei placed his briefcase on the floor next to his desk, then turned and walked back to the windows as he smoothed out his hand tailored, black suit jacket. Middle Manhattan spread out before him as he gazed eastward, looking past the financial buildings of the East Side to the Queensboro Bridge and Queens. For a long moment the Garou simply watched the eastern portion of the city, willing himself to begin the day's work.

The office doors thundered open behind him, but Alexei did not so much as wince as they slammed into the wall. He had been expecting his new visitor since late last night, and the only surprise in his visit was that he had not already been at the office when Alexei arrived.

"I'm sorry Mister Karamov, but he won't listen to me!" Alexei's secretary exclaimed frantically. The Shadow Lord finally turned from the windows with a slight smile for the attractive young blonde unsuccessfully attempting to stop the stocky Italian man that had burst into the office.

"That's alright, Miss Dulaney," Alexei said, looking past the secretary. "I've been expecting Captain Vernieri. Close the doors on your way out, if you would?"

Miss Dulaney hesitated for a long moment, but then finally exited the office. Alexei started back to his desk as Captain Vernieri stalked into the suite, his dark eyes holding an angry glint.

"You, you stupid Russkie, you have a lot of explaining to do," Captain Vernieri finally snarled, following Karamov to his desk. Alexei sat down casually, and gestured to the chair in front of the desk.

"Please, Captain, have a seat," the lawyer stated with warm smile. Vernieri slammed his fist down on the desk.

"I've got two departments, three lawyers, and one panic stricken father breathing down my neck!" the captain bellowed. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"I'm sitting down," Alexei replied simply, feigning confusion.

"Stop making fucking jokes!" Vernieri screamed. "You know what the fuck I'm talking about! Where's the girl you're holding? Where the fuck is she? How could you draw me into your fucking shadow games with Meleshenko?"

"First of all, captain, take a deep breath, and relax," Alexei said, completely unruffled despite Vernieri's tirade. "I'm not going to speak to someone that is screaming at me."

"What the fuck is going on?" Vernieri demanded a second time. Despite the rage clearly showing on his face, however, the captain maintained a calm, even tone to his voice. Alexei smiled slightly as he opened the bottom drawer of his desk.

"I have, as you figured out, detained one Brooke Farron in your name," the Russian stated as he searched for something in the drawer. "I need to hold onto her for a few more days, so you'll cover for me. She's a very important witness, after all."

"Witness to what?" Vernieri asked, frustrated.

"To a crime," Alexei replied, closing the drawer and placing a manila envelope on his desk. "To be perfectly frank, there was a knife fight last night, and a poor, unfortunate Russian immigrant was stabbed twelve times, bringing about his untimely death."

"I'm not in homicide!" Vernieri exclaimed, losing his cool once more. Alexei sighed.

"You didn't hear me when I said 'Russian immigrant', did you," the Russian concluded.

"Oh, let me guess," Vernieri said. "This Russian immigrant was working for Meleshenko, and he happened to run afoul of one of the Mafia families."

"One of the Tongs would be more believable," Alexei countered with a smirk. "After all, the Russians and the Chinese have been fighting over heroin sales."

"In Brooklyn," Vernieri finished.

"Come now, captain," Alexei said, his smile becoming condescending. "You and I both know that the fighting between the Russians and the Asians has spilled out of Brooklyn and into the other boroughs. Don't be so naïve, captain. You're on the organized crime squad. You should know these things."

"She's a minor, Karamov!" Vernieri pointed out. "She needs her legal guardian and her lawyer!"

"And that would be me," Alexei stated smoothly. "Miss Farron has consented to having me as her legal attorney. The court has appointed me as her legal guardian for the duration of the trial, in order to assure that her family is not drawn into a war between the Tongs and the Russians."

"It won't work!" Vernieri complained. "I can't do that! You're raping the judicial system here!"

"You'd better make it work," Alexei stated, growing stern. He patted the envelope that he had placed on his desk. "Or one copy goes to the commissioner, one copy goes to your wife, and one goes to the Reverend Al Sharpton."

"You can't," Vernieri said, growing pale. His voice was barely a whisper as he spoke.

"I can," Alexei corrected, his voice cold and even. "And I will. People owe you favors. You can make it work. Bury it in red tape. Or your career goes down in flames."

For a long moment Captain Vernieri simply glared across the desk at the lawyer, his eyes showing an incongruous mix of hatred and fear. Alexei leaned back slightly in his chair, his features betraying nothing as he calmly awaited the captain's answer.

"Alright," the captain finally relented. "I'll do this. This once. But you can't hold that over me forever, Karamov. And when you can't, I'm going to bury you and your KGB buddies hiding out in Little Odessa. You hear me?"

"My KGB buddies and I will be waiting," Alexei said with a faint, not quite menacing smile. "Good day, Captain Vernieri."

Captain Vernieri glared at the Shadow Lord for another moment, then turned and stalked out of the office. With a satisfied smile, Alexei replaced the envelope in his desk, and finally began his work for the day.

__________________________________________________________

Silently, he made his way through the cramped hallways of the Records building, little more than an unnoticed shadow despite the heavy traffic of a normal business day for the city government. The security guards had never seen him enter the building, and the dozens of officers, accountants, and clerks that he breezed past barely even looked up as he made his way along the thirtieth floor of the Records Office.

His target was only a few feet in front of him now, sitting at a desk placed in a corner cubicle of the office. Her light brown hair spilled down over the back of her chair as she typed into the computer that faced her, oblivious to the man slowly creeping up behind her. Silently he came to a stop only an inch behind her, and slowly slid his hands through her hair to reach for her neck.

"Jesus Christ!" the woman exclaimed suddenly, leaping out of her chair and almost landing on top of her desk as she whirled around. Her dark eyes, widened by her terror, quickly focused on the smiling man in front of her. "Jesus, Max, don't do that!"

"But it's so funny to see you hit the ceiling like that," Max van der Waal commented with a smirk as he leaned against the corner of the cubicle. The woman put her hand to her heart, trying to slow her frantic pulse. "Really, Gina, you have to learn to unwind."

"How did you even get up here, Max?" Gina Reynolds demanded, finally settling down again. She lowered her voice as she glanced past her visitor, checking quickly for her manager. "I'm not supposed to have anyone up here while I'm working!"

"They'll never know I was here," Max promised as he took a step closer to the young woman. "But I couldn't bear to be away from your smiling face any more."

"Right," Gina said, pushing Max away from her despite the smile on her face. "Whenever you come up here, you want me to find something for you."

"Gina, I'm wounded," Max said dramatically. "Really, darling, I just missed that beautiful smile of yours."

"Why do I even put up with you?" Gina sighed, sitting back down in her chair. Max smiled as he leaned down next to her.

"My charming good looks and my irresistible wit," Max concluded.

"It's probably just that funky South African accent," Gina countered with a sigh. Max laughed.

"It is beguiling, isn't it?" the young Shadow Lord said. "So how have you been?"

"Since your last visit?" Gina guessed. "Well, let's see, I would have been a lot happier if you had called me back last Saturday."

"I'm sorry about that," Max said, growing quickly contrite. "Really I am. But the boss had me jumping. You know how it is."

"Of course," Gina concluded, though her expression remained skeptical. "So, what do you want? I know you don't come up here unless you're looking for information."

"I wish you wouldn't think like that," Max said, still playing the part of the repentant. "Sometimes I just like to see you."

"What's his name?" Gina inquired.

"Vincent Farron," Max replied, finally dropping the act. "I need some information on him and his family, if you could find it in your heart to do that for me."

"Never heard of him, but I'll put it through the computer," Gina said. "Should I expect the same kind of incentive?"

"You want me to take you out Friday?" Max assumed.

"Cash on delivery," Gina corrected. Max wrinkled his brow in puzzlement.

"You get paid for this?" the Shadow Lord asked, feigning surprise.

"Max," Gina prompted, though she could hardly hold down a smile.

"I'll pick you up for lunch," the Shadow Lord said. "You'll be ready by noon?"

"I will," Gina said. "I'll bring everything with me."

"Great," Max said, turning to leave.

"Hey, Max," Gina called out after the Shadow Lord.

"Yes?" Max inquired, turning back to her.

"Who the hell do you work for, anyway?" Gina asked.

"Come on, I told you already that I can't say," Max reminded her.

"Come on, Max, I have to know," Gina pressed. "I'm going to die of curiosity. I promise I won't tell a single soul. Girl Scout's honor. Cross my heart."

"Sorry," Gina," Max said. "By the way, my offer still stands. I'll be around Friday."

"I won't count on it," Gina said as Max turned and disappeared into the rows of cubicles.

_________________________________________________________

"Do you want anything with your eggs?"

"Just some toast and orange juice," Brooke replied, sitting at the pricey wicker table that centered the cozy sunny dinette of Tanya Kolesar's Central Park West apartment. Just through a doorway on the other side of the table, Brooke's hostess continued with preparations for a late morning breakfast. "If you don't mind my asking, don't you have work today?"

"I am at work," Tanya replied, finally returning from the kitchen with two plates of eggs over easy and toast. Wearing a black, knee length dress and boots that just touched the hem of her skirt, Brooke's hostess was a well toned, remarkably attractive woman in her early twenties, with cinnamon colored hair and deep brown eyes. Despite the borderline yuppie appearance, however, Tanya exuded an aura of supreme self confidence, as well as the same vaguely unsettling, almost predatory impression that Brooke had noticed in Alexei the previous night. "When you work for Mister Karamov, sometimes you get to stay at home and watch runaways. Do you want salt or pepper?"

"No, thank you," Brooke answered. "Um, I don't mean to be rude, but how long do I have to stay here?"

"Until the boss, says," Tanya answered, disappearing into the kitchen again. She returned a moment later with two glasses of orange juice, and set one down in front of her guest. "I'm sure it won't be very long, Brooke. Just until we straighten everything out."

"I wish I could at least tell my parents I was alright," Brooke said, poking at her eggs with her fork. "I mean, maybe I don't get along with them too much, but I… I actually miss them."

"It's hard, I know," Tanya said, a note of sympathy in her voice. "I never thought I'd miss my parents, but when Alex came for me… well, I found out exactly how much I loved them."

"Alex… Alexei? He kidnapped you?" Brooke asked, stunned. Tanya smiled.

"This is what happens when you turn into nine feet of walking destruction for the first time," she stated with a bit of a smile. "I couldn't exactly stay home, you know."

"That won't happen to me, will it?" Brooke asked, suddenly considering the possibility that maybe she was a werewolf. Tanya laughed.

"No, it won't," the Shadow Lord finally said, brining her mirth under control. "At best, you might be related to a Garou somehow, but we wouldn't have missed it if you actually were one. Anyway, Max or Alex will probably come up with something today, and then we'll know exactly what Xavier wants with you."

"Maybe it was just a normal date," Brooke mumbled, returning to poking at her eggs. "At least, as normal as a date with a werewolf could be."

"Maybe it was," Tanya agreed. "If it was, then tomorrow night you'll be back home. But if it wasn't, and we just send you back home without checking, Gaia knows what could happen to you. Or your parents."

"I know," Brooke said quietly. "But it's just so frustrating. I feel like a prisoner!"

"Well, let's get out of here, then," Tanya suggested. "Once we finish breakfast, we'll go over to Fifth Avenue and get you some new clothes. How does that sound?"

__________________________________________________________

"Come on, Bickle, get up!"

"Dude, I am so not in the mood for this," Bickle grumbled, rolling over and burying his face in one of the beer stained, foul smelling brown pillows on his couch. "I just got finished with a four day bender, two Goth chicks with a serious bondage problem, and one of your dumbass friends who seems to think I can put a curse on his slut of an ex girlfriend."

"Get the fuck up, Bickle!" Xavier DeLeon bellowed, grabbing the far smaller man by the shoulder and hurling him onto the filthy carpet of his living room floor. After ten seconds or so of stumbling to one knee in a cloud of dust and old pizza boxes, Bickle finally regained his senses, and turned a vicious glare on his uninvited guest.

"You got serious fucking problems, you know that, dickhead?" Bickle shouted, running one hand through his bleached white hair. The apartment's owner tried to look intimidating to Xavier, but Bickle's five foot seven, emaciated frame was dwarfed by Xavier's far larger frame. The only truly frightening feature Bickle possessed were his eyes, a once clear blue that was clouded with barely concealed insanity and rage. "I'll see you fucking drowned in the sewage treatment plant and I'll give your fucked up body over to Lord Collum himself to ass fuck you right into Malfeas!"

"Well, at least you're awake now," Xavier said. "Try me, fucko. I'll take you down so hard your little Bane buddies'll need a month to put you back together."

For a long moment the two psychotic men locked harsh glares, but Bickle finally turned away and kicked at an empty syringe on the floor.

"What do you want?" he asked, still thoroughly irritated by Xavier's interruption.

"Brooke is gone," Xavier replied.

"Your fucking problem, man," Bickle grumbled, his voice both dejected and irked. "Go get her. You don't need me or the rest of the pack to go get your little plaything."

"Karamov has her," Xavier added. Bickle turned back to him, surprised.

"You fucked with one of Karamov's girls?" the smaller man concluded. Then he stopped, a look of curiosity coming to his face. "I didn't know Karamov took them that young. Maybe the time's right. Maybe he's going to fall."

"We have to get her back," Xavier pointed out. "Karamov must have know about her somehow, but I don't know how much he knows."

"Shit, leave the little bitch," Bickle said. "It ain't worth fucking with Karamov and his pack. We'll find you another girl, if you want one so bad."

"Nigel said we need her," Xavier explained. Bickle's eyes went wide, and the man turned quickly around as he scanned his apartment.

"What time is it?" the smaller man demanded, growing rapidly frantic.

"Sun's still up," Xavier replied. Bickle relaxed only the slightest bit.

"Shit," the smaller man finally said. "Shit. What the hell does Nigel want with her? How did he get involved? I mean, this was just supposed to be some kind of stupid little jaunt for you! What the fuck is Nigel doing in the middle of this? Oh, shit, we are so fucking dead! What the hell did you get us into?"

"Easy, Bickle, easy," Xavier said, moving closer to his friend and putting a hand on his shoulder. Bickle was easily excitable, and suffered outrageous mood swings when confronted with situations such as the one that faced him now. "Look, all we have to do is get Brooke back from Karamov, and all our problems are over. You call up a few Banes, we find the girl, and we hit them real hard, and real fast. Callow'll be all over this one, too. So don't worry."

"Don't worry?" Bickle repeated, on the verge of a full blown panic attack. "Don't worry?! This is Karamov we're talking about! And if he ain't enough, he's got that gigantic bodyguard Mortiss with him most of the time! He'll rip my fucking head off and shit down my throat! And if we don't get her, then Nigel gets us! Oh, fucking shit, what the fuck did you get us into, man?"

"Don't worry," Xavier said, trying to calm Bickle before he could get truly out of control. Bickle dropped back down on the couch in a cloud of dust, burying his face in his hands. "Everything will be alright. I promise."

"You'd better be right," Bickle said, finally looking up. "Because I don't want to die just because you wanted a fifteen year old piece of ass."

"You won't," Xavier assured his friend. "Now, do you think you can find our girl with one of your Bane allies?"

"I can give it a try," Bickle answered. "But we don't go anywhere near Karamov unless Callow and Spook are with us."

"Just find her," Xavier said. Bickle nodded, and started back through his apartment with an increasingly cheerful whistle.


	4. A New Twist

"This must be my lucky day. I'm finding beautiful women everywhere."

"Come off it, Max," Tanya said with a smile as she and Brooke walked out of the front doors of Saks Fifth Avenue and onto the sun dappled, wide sidewalks of Fifth Avenue. Even for an early spring day, the corner of Fifth Avenue and Fiftieth Street was heavily occupied with people making their way home from work in the midtown financial district or fitting in some late afternoon shopping. Already weighted down with two bags of her own from the pricey department store, Brooke hurried to keep up with Tanya as her Shadow Lord guide for the day met up with Max at the corner.

"Again she spurns me," Max said, taking Tanya's bag from her and turning to Brooke. "Looks like you two did a little shopping today, at any rate. Anything for me?"

"Just our eternal gratitude for coming to pick us up," Tanya replied as Max took Brooke's purchases from her. "You're so sweet, Max. How did you ever manage to fall in with that boss of yours?"

"Just dumb luck," Max said, finally turning to Brooke and relieving her of her packages. "And how are you today, Miss Farron? I hope Tanya here didn't make things too terrible for you."

"No, no, not at all," Brooke replied, quickly being won over by the young man's charming smile. "She even paid for my things."

"She never does that for me," Max said, acting hurt by his comrade's apparent show of favoritism. "I'm wounded, Tanya. To think that you treat a total stranger better than you treat me. And after everything I've done for you."

"I think you'll survive, Max," Tanya said, humoring the younger Shadow Lord. "Have you brought the car around, or do we have to walk?"

"This is what I have to put up with," Max said, turning to Brooke with a sigh of resignation. Brooke giggled a little at Max's display, prompting the Shadow Lord to continue. "She's always bossing me around, telling me what to do, and she's never happy. Between her and Alex, I'd think I was nothing more than a slave."

"I'll tell the boss you said that," Tanya commented, her voice betraying her amusement with Max's complaints. Brooke could not help but laugh as well.

"No one ever takes my side," Max groaned, shaking his head in mock dejection.

"I'll take your side, Max," Brooke offered, patting the Shadow Lord on the shoulder. Max looked up, ready to offer another lighthearted comment, but the young man's sharp hazel eyes instantly focused on something behind her.

He was in action before the girl could question him. Brooke was thrown out of the way as Max knocked her over with the shopping bags, crashing to the pavement with a yelp of pain as she twisted her wrist beneath her. The girl tried to clamber back to her feet, but Tanya grabbed her already injured wrist and dragged her back into the façade of Saks as Max dropped and rolled to the curb of Fifth Avenue. Above the sudden cries of surprise and fear from the crowd, Brooke heard four gunshots and the sharp cracks as the bullets ricocheted off the pavement where she had been standing a moment earlier.

"Get her out of here!" Max shouted, drawing a pair of handguns from beneath his black overcoat. Tanya dragged Brooke to her feet and started racing north along Fifth Avenue. Brooke struggled to look back over her shoulder, praying that Max would be right behind them, but the younger Shadow Lord had disappeared into the startled crowd.

"What about Max?" the girl asked, turning to her escort. Tanya never even looked over her shoulder for her friend.

"If he's half as good as he thinks he is, he'll find the bastard that just tried to shoot you, kill him before the guy has a chance to react, get us coffee at the nearest Starbuck's, and meet us at Alex's office," Tanya explained. "Right now, our priority is keeping you alive until we find out why they want you dead."

____________________________________________________

He had felt the shot coming more than he had seen it. Max's ability to sense danger bordered on the supernatural, and this time it had served him well. Quickly the Shadow Lord threaded through the panicked crowds of Fifth Avenue, calling upon his gifts to cloak him from sight even as he ducked into the cover afforded by the masses of frightened pedestrians. Although the Blur of the Milky Eye did not confer true invisibility, Max would only need a slight edge in the chaotic throngs on the street. As he circled back through the masses, the Shadow Lord continuously scanned the people around him, searching for anyone that might have a weapon of some sort.

Quick movement and an almost imperceptible flash of light caught Max's eye to his left. Another man, dressed in a heavy brown trenchcoat and wide brimmed hat over his jet black hair was pushing his way north through the crowds, looking for all the world like a character out of a pulp detective novel from the fifties. As the man strode quickly up the street, the flash of light came again from a long, silvery knife held in his left hand, while he carried a revolver at the ready in his right. Although he carried the weapons in plain sight, no one responded to the assassin in their midst, and Max could only conclude that the man was making use of the same gift that he had invoked to hide in the crowds.

The assassin turned suddenly, stopping in the middle of Fiftieth Street and turning abruptly in Max's direction. The young Shadow Lord moved quickly, trying to duck into the cover of the crowds once more before he could be seen, but the assassin's icy eyes homed in on his pursuer's location. For a long second the two men locked gazes, but then the assassin smiled slightly.

__

Don't fuck with me, boy.

"Shit," Max snapped, keeping his voice low. The man had not opened his mouth or spoken any words, but his warning had shot clearly through the Shadow Lord's mind. The Shadow Lord tensed, expecting an imminent attack, but the assassin started north again, ignoring Max in his pursuit of Brooke. Max hesitated for only a moment before he rushed after the receding form, sprinting across the street to the front of Saint Patrick's Cathedral and scanning the people once again for signs of the vanished assassin.

He felt the tip of the silver dagger at his back a heartbeat later.

"Now what did I tell you, boy?"

"Sorry, Trent," Max stated. "But you know how the boss gets when I don't do my job."

"Oh yeah, how is Alex these days?" the assassin inquired, keeping the dagger at Max's spine. "Tell him the offer still stands. We'd love to have him playing on our side."

"I don't think he'll take the offer," Max said. Two NYPD cruisers screeched to a halt in front of Saks, but Max and Trent seemingly remained invisible to the rest of the people on the street.

"What about you then, boy?" Trent inquired. "I have to admit, I didn't think you'd pick me out of the crowd before I could shoot the girl."

"Sorry, no deal there, either," the Shadow Lord replied. "I thought you wanted the girl alive."

"No! God, no!" Trent exclaimed, sounding almost amused with the younger Shadow Lord. "You think we're that crazy? Stay out of my way, Maxie. Or I swear to Vorus that I'll put you down like the little boy that you are."

"What is it about her that you don't like?" Max asked. He waited for a long moment, but there was no answer from the man behind him. "Trent?"

Max turned around, but by the time he did so, the assassin had disappeared again into the crowds. After another second of peering through the crowds in vain for his opponent, the Shadow Lord finally hurried up Fifth Avenue in an attempt to catch up with Tanya and Brooke.

____________________________________________________

"Is he ready yet?"

"These things take time," Callow commented, sitting back on Bickle's torn and burnt couch. The immensely overweight, greasy man stuffed a hand into his stained black jeans as he stared at the blank television screen. "I mean, you know how many fifteen year olds are in this city?"

"No," Spook said from his position on the floor in front of a crumbling rack of videotapes. The painfully thin, ebon skinned man turned back to Callow with a look of curiosity. "How many are there?"

"Fucked if I know," Callow stated indifferently. Xavier sighed in disgust from his p[position by the window.

"Sun's going down, and he still hasn't figured out how to even find her," Xavier growled out. "Nigel's gonna kill us!"

"He's not gonna kill us," Callow said in a thoroughly bored tone. "I mean, if he killed us, who would he have to do things like find this little girl that you're so desperate to get your paws on?"

"Have we seen this one?" Spook inquired, tossing a videotape over the stark white afro that crowned his head. Callow caught the tape before it hit him in the face, and examined it for a long moment.

"Sweaty Sumo Sorority," the fat man read from the cover. "This, my friend, sounds like a winner."

"Bickle's got some fucked up shit in his library," Spook commented as he stood up from the rack.

"Yeah, but he doesn't have a fucking thing in his fridge," Callow observed. "Christ, I'm starving."

"Can't you do anything but eat?" Xavier asked irritably, looking back to Callow.

"Yeah," Callow replied. "I can whip your pussy little ass. But I'd prefer something to eat."

"Throw the tape on, man," Spook said impatiently, sitting down at the base of the couch.

"You're up," Callow pointed out, tossing the cassette back to his far smaller companion. Spook rolled his eyes in disgust, then reached forward to put the tape into the VCR. Just before he could press the play button, Bickle nearly shot through the door from his bedroom.

"Dude, I so totally got her!" the Black Spiral exclaimed in a bout of euphoria. Spook leapt to his feet and dropped back into a fighting crouch, refusing to relax even after he saw the source of the distraction. Callow simply yawned.

"That's terrific," the fat Black Spiral stated sarcastically. "Can you order me a pizza or two now?"

"Where is she?" Xavier demanded anxiously.

"She's with Karamov!" Bickle replied excitedly.

"Oh, good," Callow grumbled. "Maybe he'll order us pizza."

"Fuck!" Xavier shouted, slamming his fist into the wall. "God fucking damnit, Bickle! I could have told you that!"

"How about having him find us a pizza place now?" Callow inquired idly from the couch.

"Shut the fuck up!" Xavier snapped, diverting his attention from Bickle for only a fraction of a second. "Don't you have a location? Like, is she in his office?"

"Yes, that's exactly where she is!" Bickle exclaimed, elated. He suddenly realized what he was saying, and his euphoria rapidly began to fade into depression. "Shit, man, how are we gonna get her out of there?"

"We could always ask Karamov for her," Callow suggested. "And a large pizza with onions, sausage, and extra cheese."

"Shut the fuck up!" Xavier ordered a second time. Callow shrugged, and pulled a phone out of his pocket.

"We sneak in, we take her, we sneak out," Spook said, as though the answer had been obvious.

"Thanks, Spook," Xavier said. "Ever the tactician. And how exactly do we sneak into Karamov's office?"

"Shit, Mortiss'll probably be there," Bickle said, his depression quickly shifting to panic. "Oh, shit, he'll rip my fucking head off and shit down my throat! We can't go there, Xavier! We can't! I don't wanna die until the end of the world!"

"Guys, I'm on the phone," Callow said. "A little respect, please?"

"I don't care about your fucking pizza, Callow!" Xavier snapped. Callow shrugged, then diverted his attention to the phone.

"Yeah, is this Mister Karamov?" the fat Black Spiral inquired. Xavier and Bickle both turned to their packmate in shock.

"I coulda told you he'd do that," Spook informed the other two.

"Yeah, we're looking for this girl, and I was told you have her," Callow began. "So, we're gonna swing by in a couple of minutes. You think you could have her out front for us? And maybe a large pizza with-"

"Give me that!" Xavier exclaimed, grabbing the phone out of Callow's hand before he could finish his request. The pack leader looked at the phone for a moment, then quickly raised it to his lips. "Prank call! Prank call!"

"Oh, that'll make him think it wasn't us," Spook commented derisively as Xavier hung up the phone. The pack leader ignored his subordinate as he frantically smashed the phone to pieces against the wall.

"You owe me a new phone," Callow pointed out.

"I take it we're not heading over in twenty minutes?" Spook inquired with a look of genuine curiosity. Xavier glared at his packmate for a long moment, then stormed out of the apartment.

____________________________________________________

"That had to be Callow," Max said, hanging up Alexei's office telephone.

"Xavier must have gathered his pack up," Alexei decided, turning back to the windows of his office. The lights of the Queensboro Bridge began to wink on, lightning the skeletal framework above the East River. "They seem to really want her."

"And Trent wants her dead," Max added.

"An order from Venizio, no doubt," Alexei guessed. "That puts the street thugs at odds with the corporate wolves in Pentex, all over one fifteen year old girl."

"What the hell is it about her?" Max asked, following the philodox's line of sight to the eastern skyline.

"We need to find out," Alexei answered. "If Venizio thinks that the girl is a threat, there's a possibility that she may be useful to us. But the question arises in what Xavier wants with her. If she was just any fifteen year old, Xavier would probably have forgotten her and moved on to his next underage conquest. Something about this girl is important enough to put the Black Spirals at odds with each other. At the very least, we might be able to exploit the internal strife and use the girl to start a shooting war between the two packs. Did your contact at the Records Office have anything at all that might prove useful?"

"Not in the least," Max answered. "Vincent Farron is an employee at Sun Bank, but no one worth mentioning. He used to work for a Sabbat and Pentex joint venture in Lower Manhattan, but when both sides finally stopped trusting each other and the thing went down in flames, he just moved on without incident. The guy doesn't take bribes, doesn't deal with any vital accounts, and doesn't have any kind of criminal record. He's your typical boring banker."

"What about the rest of the family?" Alex inquired, finally turning back to his subordinate. Max shrugged.

"Nothing there, either," the younger Shadow Lord answered. "Anne Farron is a real estate agent, showing off condos on the Upper West Side. Pretty small time, no real big deals made or broken in her career. She has no ties to anyone worth mentioning. Vincent has two brothers, and Anne one brother. None of them do anything even remotely interesting, and only one even lives in the city."

"Which one is that?" Alex asked, setting his drink down on his desk and glancing through some legal documents.

"James Farron," Max replied. "He lives in Astoria, and is the sales manager of a Home Depot out there."

"Really moving up in the world," Alexei commented with a bit of a smirk.

"So the family's a dead end, or so it seems," Max said. "So now what do we do?"

"I think that tomorrow, we'll take a little trip over to Tribeca and see what Xavier has to say about the whole matter," Alexei stated with an imperceptible smirk.

"And what about her?" Max inquired, nodding to the slightly open doors. Just visible on the other side, Brooke was sitting on the edge of one of the desks with a cup of coffee as Tanya made idle discussion.

"Jack will be in tomorrow morning," Alexei informed his younger companion. "He and Tanya will take Brooke over to Bay Ridge. Matt Narducci owes me a favor for getting him off of those drug possession charges. The time has come to collect. Maybe he can pick something up in her aura, or at least tell us if she's kinfolk."

"As long as he's not high," Max grumbled.

"The price of dealing with young Glass Walkers," Alexei commented. "Oh. Get your rifle. Just in case Xavier does decide to show up tonight."

"You think he will?" Max asked skeptically.

"Probably not," Alexei replied. "But if he does, put a bullet through his head."


	5. A Small Problem

"Where is Jack?"

"He's coming," Alexei said, leaning back in his office chair as he considered the view outside his office windows. The lawyer turned away from the windows after a moment, smiling faintly at Max as the younger Shadow Lord paced in front of the door. "Relax, Max. He'll get here soon."

"Who's Jack?" Brooke inquired, sitting next to Tanya in the chairs next to Alexei's desk.

"Jack is a very large man," Tanya answered with a smile. "He's our resident leg breaker."

"A very crude way of stating the job of an ahroun," Alexei commented, turning to the young woman. "I would think a galliard would be more poetic."

"Galliard?" Brooke repeated, turning to Tanya.

"The storytellers of Garou society," Alexei answered, regaining the girl's attention. "Warrior bards."

"I thought you were a Shadow Lord," Brooke said, confused. Tanya laughed.

"There's different classes, you might say, inside the tribes," the young woman explained. "Max over there is a ragabash. They're sneaky, so we use him to spy on our friends and enemies. Alex is a philodox, or judge, so he makes the shady deals. Jack, who may or may not ever get back from vacation, is the ahroun, the leg breaker, as I said. And cute little me, the galliard, makes up stories to make these guys look good when we all get together."

"Oh," Brooke said, still sounding a bit puzzled. 

"You'll get the hang of it," Tanya said with a smile. Brooke started to nod, but turned to the doors as another person entered the room.

"About time, Jack," Max said, turning to the newcomer as he walked through the doors. Tanya's description of Jack Mortiss as large was an understatement; the black haired, faintly Slavic man was at least two or three inches over six feet tall and appeared nearly as wide. Everything the man wore was solid black, from his dress pants and suit jacket to his button down shirt and even his solid, flat black sunglasses. Jack regarded the girl with a faintly irritable and thoroughly disinterested expression, then looked to Alexei.

"How were the Adirondacks?" the lawyer inquired amiably.

"They would be much better if I was still there," Jack stated simply, allowing a clear note of displeasure to color his statement.

"I didn't want to call you back, but it appears our Black Spiral friends have taken an interest in Miss Farron here," Alexei explained, gesturing to the girl. Brooke smiled at Jack as he appraised her a second time, but the ahroun simply scowled at her in return. "I'd like you to escort her and Miss Kolesar to Matthew Narducci. I assume you know where he is?"

"I hate Brooklyn," Jack grumbled, shaking his head in disgust.

"None of us are particularly fond of the place," Alexei conceded. "It should only take the morning, though. You'll be back in time for lunch."

"Understood," Jack muttered. Then he simply turned and started back out of the office, leaving Tanya and Brooke behind.

"I see he's in one of his happy moods," Tanya noted to Alexei. The lawyer simply shrugged.

"You'd better catch up, before he leaves without you," the older Shadow Lord remarked. Tanya nodded, then turned back to Brooke.

"Well, let's go chase Jack down," the young woman said with a smile. Brooke nodded, and followed the galliard as she left the office. As the two disappeared through the doors, Max looked back to his boss.

"Well, we might as well get going," the younger Shadow Lord observed.

"Might as well," Alexei confirmed, pulling on his jacket.

___________________________________________________

"I'm surprised you even found someone to make and deliver a pizza at eight in the morning."

"So am I," Callow agreed, carrying an extra large pizza in one hand as he dragged the body of the dead delivery girl into Bickle's apartment. Spook followed a step behind the fat Black Spiral Dancer, his eyes locked on the college aged delivery girl. "Hey Xavier, is this one pretty enough for you?"

"What the hell are you doing?" Bickle demanded, coming back into the living room as Callow dumped the girl in the center of the living room.

"I'm eating a pizza," Callow answered. "Oh yeah. Pepperoni, sausage, and extra cheese. You want a slice?"

"What the hell did you drag her in for?" Bickle asked angrily, pointing to the delivery girl.

"It's a present for Xavier," Callow said nonchalantly. "He was here a minute ago."

"You idiot!" Bickle shouted. "Every time you order a pizza here, you have to whack the delivery person! Pretty soon no one'll ever deliver here!"

"I don't do it every time," Callow countered as he dropped down on the couch and opened the pizza box. "Only when it's a pretty girl that gets that look in her eyes when I don't tip. So where is Xavier, anyway?"

"He's taking a leak," Spook answered, still fixated on the corpse in the center of the room. "What are you going to do with her?"

"As long as Xavier doesn't want her, she's yours," Callow replied through a mouthful of pizza. Bickle sighed in resignation, then helped himself to a slice of Callow's pie. A moment later, Xavier appeared from the bathroom, stopping for a moment to consider the room's newest occupant.

"You want her?" Spook inquired.

"She's yours," Xavier replied absently. "Has anyone even put any thought into how we can get Brooke away from Karamov?"

"I'm not fighting Mortiss, no way," Bickle stated with finality

"We know," Callow said. "I'm fighting Mortiss."

"No one's fighting anyone until we figure out how to get Brooke back!" Xavier shouted.

"I say we just sneak in and steal her," Spook said. "Though in all actuality, I really think you should just go hang around another high school and get yourself a different date."

"We need her, Spook!" Xavier shouted. The pack leader slammed his fist into the wall, then stopped and tried to rein in his anger.

"Look," Callow stated, pausing for a moment from devouring his pizza. "Do you think Karamov is really keeping this girl around him all the time? No. He' probably foisted her off on van der Waal or Kolesar. Van der Waal's only dangerous when he's a hundred yards away with that sniper rifle, and well, let's just say I'd really enjoy getting into a scrape with Tanya."

"I have dibs on her," Spook put in.

"To the victor, buddy boy," Callow stated. Then he turned back to Xavier. "So this is what we do. We hang out around Karamov's offices, and we wait to see who has her. Spook can track anyone through this city, so he can follow van der Waal. Bickle can send a spirit after Kolesar, and eventually we'll find out which one has her. And if one of them brings her to the offices, well, we jump them in the lobby and take the girl there."

"Great plan," Spook said. "Only I'll follow Tanya."

"Alright," Xavier said, a smile slowly coming to his face. "Good thinking, Callow. Spook, you follow van der Waal. Bickle, get a spirit on Kolesar."

"I'll follow Tanya," Spook said again.

"I can't risk having you get distracted," Xavier pointed out. "You follow van der Waal. When everything's over, you can do whatever you want, but right now, you stay away from the bitch."

"You ruin all my fun," Spook grumbled as Xavier brushed past him.

"Well, come on!" the pack leader said, heading for the door. "We have work to do!"

____________________________________________________

"So, um, who's this Matthew Narducci?"

"He's a Glass Walker," Tanya replied as she and Brooke ascended a creaky flight of steps to the third floor of a brownstone row house in Bay Ridge. The drive from Alexei's midtown offices to the southern end of Brooklyn had taken a half hour, but Jack Mortiss' intimidating presence in Tanya's silver Infiniti had kept the girl silent for the entire trip. Now, with Jack a half flight of steps behind the two women, Brooke finally felt secure enough to ask her guide about the man they were meeting. "He's a little weird, but he's relatively harmless."

"I guess the Glass Walkers are another tribe of werewolves?" Brooke concluded.

"Yep," Tanya replied as they reached the third floor. "The Glass Walkers are, in essence, Garou that are simply fascinated with the city and technology. They think the cities are great."

"But you don't," Brooke guessed. Tanya smiled.

"I don't mind them that much," the young woman stated. "Now Jack there, he despises cities. He's not too keen on humanity as a whole, but he was born a wolf. Hard to like the people that have pushed your kind to the edge of extinction."

"I guess not," Brooke agreed, throwing a nervous glance over her shoulder. Jack simply scowled at her as she caught his eyes, and the girl quickly turned back to Tanya just as she stopped at a door.

"Here we are," the Shadow Lord said brightly, knocking on the door. Jack joined the group as they waited for someone to answer the summons. Tanya looked up to the far larger Shadow Lord, and turned a smile on her ally. "Smile, Jack," the young woman said. "Look happy for once in your life."

"Maybe later," Jack stated curtly. Tanya chuckled as she turned back to the door. Brooke glanced back to Jack again, but turned back as she heard the door open.

The young man in the apartment could not be any older than twenty, with a scraggly goatee and an unruly mop of brown hair on his head. His dark brown eyes were only half open as he scratched at the Knicks jersey that he wore, but he quickly started to wake up as he saw Tanya.

"Jeremy," Tanya said warmly. "How are you?"

"Asleep," Jeremy replied, looking past the galliard to her entourage. "Are we having a party?"

"Sort of," Tanya replied. "Is Matt home?"

"He's asleep, too," Jeremy answered.

"Could we please see him?" Tanya asked, her voice almost sickeningly polite. "It's really important."

"Yeah, sure," Jeremy grumbled, turning back into the apartment. "Hey Matt!" the young man shouted to the back rooms. "The Queen of Darkness wants to see you!"

"Queen of Darkness?" Brooke repeated, looking to Tanya.

"He's just upset that I turned him down," the Shadow Lord explained nonchalantly.

"She's evil incarnate," Jeremy said, turning back to Brooke. "Don't listen to anything she tells you."

"Oh, come on, Jeremy," Tanya chided, walking up behind the young man and putting her arms around his neck. "You know you love me."

"As much as I love Jack," Jeremy grumbled. As he finished his statement, a second young man, this one clean shaven and, if anything, younger than Jeremy, appeared from one of the two back rooms. Brooke immediately noticed a resemblance between Jeremy and the newcomer that went beyond the brown hair and eyes.

"Um, was I expecting you today?" Matthew Narducci inquired, glancing from Tanya to Jack and back again. Tanya shook her head.

"No, not really," the Shadow Lord replied. "But we have a little bit of a quandary, and we thought you might be able to help us."

"Oh," Matt said, looking to Brooke. "Is she the quandary?"

"Such a smart boy," Tanya said with a grin. "Yes, she is. There's a pack of Black Spiral Dancers that have taken an interest in her, and we thought you might be able to tell us why."

"He's a Glass Walker, not a Spiral," Jeremy pointed out, walking into the apartment's tiny kitchen.

"He's also a theurge," Tanya added. "If it's something mystical about the girl that has attracted the Black Spirals, he should be able to find it."

"Do we have any O.J. left?" Matt inquired, taking a few steps to the kitchen.

"I thought you were going to get some yesterday," Jeremy said.

"No I didn't," Matt said, puzzled.

"Yes you did," Jeremy countered, shutting the fridge. "We're out of orange juice."

"Too many screwdrivers," Matt said, shaking his head and turning back to Tanya and Brooke. "Okay. So we're trying to figure out if Miss, um"

"Brooke," the girl prompted.

"Miss Brooke?" Matt said.

"Just Brooke."

"Oh," Matt said. "So we're trying to figure out if Brooke is somehow mystical, or something."

"Or something," Tanya agreed. "So do you think you can do it?"

"At this time of the morning I'm usually lucky to be able to hit the toilet bowl," Matt said, rubbing at his eyes. "Okay, let's give this a try."

Matt appraised Brooke for a long moment, walking around her and considering every last detail. He circled her three times, each time stropping and staring sternly into her eyes for a few seconds. Finally, he stepped back, and scratched his chin for a moment.

"Did you figure anything out?" Tanya inquired. Matt stopped scratching his chin for a moment.

"I need a shave," the theurge observed, rubbing his hand along his cheek for a moment.

"No, I meant about Brooke," Tanya prompted.

"Oh, yeah," Matt said. "Hold on a minute. I have to step out."

Brooke watched as Matt turned to a slightly dirty mirror on the living room wall, and then simply tried to walk through it. As he bounced off of the mirror, Tanya stifled a chuckle, and even Jack managed a smirk at the display.

"Concentrate, Matthew-_san_," Jeremy said from the kitchen, affecting a horrible Japanese accent. Matt rubbed his forehead for a moment, and turned a vaguely embarrassed smile on his guests.

"Always screw up the first try of the day," the Glass Walker said with a shrug. Then he turned and walked into the mirror again. This time, instead of bouncing off, he simply vanished into thin air. Brooke's jaw dropped in shock.

"He went to the Umbra," Tanya explained. "That's the spirit world."

"Do you think he'll find anything out?" Brooke inquired.

"I couldn't tell you for sure, but I hope he comes back with something," Tanya answered. "The curiosity is killing me."

_____________________________________________________

"Standard deadbolt lock. No problem."

"Do it quietly," Alexei said, leaning against the hallway wall as Max closed his eyes for a second in concentration. Calling upon the gifts of the ragabash, Max smiled as he heard the deadbolt retreat into the lock barrel, and slowly opened the door. Silently the two men entered the apartment, ready to react to any threat if Xavier happened to be home.

The living room was almost completely bare, with only a battered, black velvet couch and a large television set on the center of the thin, gray carpeting. Max and Alexei both froze, however, as they found two men waiting for them.

"How you doing, kid?" Trent inquired with a thin smirk, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his trench coat as he leaned back against the far wall.

"Alright," Max answered, his eyes drifting from the assassin to the man sitting on the couch. Dressed in a hand tailored, midnight blue suit and wearing gold rimmed glasses, the man was easily into his thirties, with impossibly neat, dark brown hair and cold brown eyes. Alexei and Trent's ally locked cold gazes for a moment, but then the Shadow Lord simply smiled.

"I didn't think you left your lair before dark, Nicco," Alexei stated, his right hand slowly drifting to his back sheath. Max tensed for a battle as well, folding his arms across his chest to keep them close to the Glocks under his jacket.

"Not usually, but I do make exceptions," Nicco Venizio said with a grin of his own. "I see where you hand is heading, but I actually don't wish to kill you right now."

"Are you looking for the girl I found?" Alexei inquired, relaxing only slightly. Nicco nodded in affirmation as he removed his glasses and pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket.

"She's dangerous, Alexei," the Black Spiral Dancer said. "It would be in your best interest to dispose of her in a timely manner."

"And why is she dangerous?" the philodox inquired. Nicco stood as he polished his glasses, taking a few steps to the window.

"I like this city, Alexei," the Black Spiral Dancer said. "I like its corruption, its moral bankruptcy, all the challenges a city of nine million, not to mention the millions of people in Long Island, New Jersey, and Westchester, can offer. I even like you, Alexei, though only as an enemy. I'd hate to see it all get flushed down the drain by some fifteen year old slut."

"Oh," Alexei said. "She's going to destroy the city on us?"

"In a certain manner of speaking, that's what I've been led to believe," Nicco replied, turning back to the Shadow Lord. "Have you ever heard of Nigel Chouinard?"

"Can't say that I have," Alexei answered.

"I didn't think you would have," Nicco said. "He's a mage. A Marauder, to be exact, if you know what that is. To put it lightly, he's not playing with a full deck. He adores destruction and is a card carrying nihilist."

"Sounds like he's just your type of guy," Max commented. Trent chuckled.

"Like I said, I like this city," Nicco stated. "Nigel would like to see it burning to the ground. And he's not what you would call subtle. After that Sabbat disaster last Halloween, the last thing we need is a mage throwing fireballs in the streets or twisting metal with the force of his mind. Bad for business."

"It is," Alexei agreed. "So how does Brooke figure in?"

"Apparently, Nigel wants her for something, but we don't know what, exactly," Nicco replied. "It seems that Nigel is convinced of her usefulness, in some kind of ritual or spell, I would guess. Whether she really is or not, he won't move until he has her. So, we're not going to let him have her."

"Then you should call your thugs off," Alexei stated. "Xavier and his pack are working with him."

"We know," Nicco said. "They are less willing to take a long term view. They think Nigel will bring the Beast of War itself to earth. If that happens, it's all well and good, but I seriously doubt that he's going to manage that little trick with just one girl."

"So you're helping us to stop this Nigel Chouinard," Alexei concluded. Nicco laughed.

"I'm just telling you that you should kill that girl," the Black Spiral Dancer replied through his mirth. "Well, good day, Mister Karamov. I believe the business day is just starting, and I have the entire upper Hudson to pollute. But don't be a stranger. Stop by any time you like. You know where my offices are."

"I'll see you around," Alexei said. Nicco nodded, and he and Trent walked out of the apartment. Max watched them go for a long moment, then glanced to his leader.

"Should we go after them?" the ragabash inquired.

"No, not now," Alexei replied. "Let's get back to the office. Hopefully, Tanya will have found out something useful from our little Glass Walker buddies in Brooklyn."

______________________________________________________

"So we didn't find out anything useful?"

"No," Tanya confirmed as she led Brooke up the steps to Alexei's office building. The Shadow Lord's normally cheery mood had turned vaguely downcast, but she managed to give Brooke a bright smile as they neared the doors of the building. As he had earlier, Jack remained a few steps behind the pair, still scowling as he continued to watch their surroundings for any kind of attack. "I wouldn't worry, though," Tanya continued. "Matt said he was going to check with a few of his friends, and maybe they'll be able to come up with something more for us."

"I really hope they do," Brooke said, dropping her eyes to the ground as they neared the glass doors of the building. "I just want this all to be over."

"Soon enough," Tanya said as she reached for the door. "Maybe Alex-"

The glass doors suddenly exploded outward, cutting Tanya off in the middle of her sentence. The two women stumbled backward as shards of glass tore across them, ripping crimson lines across them. Brooke dropped to the ground with a scream of pain, but looked up in time to see Xavier and three of his companions simply appear over her. Xavier quickly reached down and grabbed her by her wrist, hauling her back to her feet before she could try to escape.

And then Jack hit him.

Xavier never saw him coming until it was far too late to avoid him. Jack was even larger than Brooke first remembered, his glasses gone and his shirt torn by his rippling muscles as he surged forward with a mace of black steel. Xavier was hurled backward by the impact of the Shadow Lord's fierce backhanded strike, flying into the building with a peal of thunder from Jack's weapon. Jack spun quickly, just in time to avoid a wiry, coal black wolf with a white shock of hair crowning its head and throw it into the low stone wall edging the staircase. Brooke scrambled behind the huge ahroun as Tanya dragged herself back to her feet and Jack pivoted to face an immensely fat man striding out of the shattered doors with a length of pipe in his hand.

"You and me, buddy boy," the fat man snarled, pausing long enough to size up his opponent. Jack hefted his mace and leveled a stern, icy glare on Callow as he started forward again. With each step he took, the fat Black Spiral Dancer grew even larger, quickly transforming to his _crinos_ form as he closed the last few feet to his foe. Jack rushed forward at the last instant, quickly assuming his own war form as the two ahrouns slammed into each other.

"Brooke, come on!" Tanya ordered, dragging the girl toward the office. Callow let out a howl of pain that carried over another peal of thunder, and Brooke glanced over her shoulder to see the Black Spiral Dancer dropping away from Jack and cradling a shattered arm. She turned back just as Tanya stopped in her tracks, glancing around hastily to find a route around Bickle.

"Ooh, I gotcha now," the Black Spiral theurge snarled out, still in his human form. "I thought the glass doors were a nice touch, didn't you?"

A low, even snarl rumbled out from behind Brooke. Bickle glanced up from Tanya, and his eyes widened in terror as Jack stalked forward slowly, his huge mace in hand. 

"M-M-Mortiss," Bickle stammered in fright. "II w-w-was j-just leaving."

Bickle turned and bolted back into the building lobby, but Jack was forced to turn as Callow rejoined the fight. Tanya quickly shifted forms, growing larger but stopping far short of the _crinos_ form that Jack had taken. In her seemingly Neanderthal guise, Tanya's myriad cuts and gashes began to heal instantly, but Brooke had no time to marvel at the Shadow Lord's amazing regenerative capabilities as Tanya dragged her into the building. Brooke stumbled and nearly fell through the shattered doorway, but as she regained her balance, she could see Xavier winding up to throw something at the Shadow Lord.

"Tanya, look out!" Brooke shouted. Tanya turned quickly, but she had no time to react to the rope of putty that hit her and instantly wound around her. Brooke fell away as Tanya struggled to free herself, but the white headed wolf suddenly slammed into her from behind and knocked her to the ground.

"Come on, Brooke," Xavier growled, grabbing the girl by her hair. "We have places to go."

Tanya hit the ground flat on her back and still trying to break free of the putty rope that bound her, but the wolf over her quickly changed back to his human form. The Shadow Lord froze for a moment as Spook leaned in close over her, leering at her as he started to rip at her blouse.

"Oh yeah, we gonna have some fun now," the Black Spiral breathed out, leaning down over her. Fueled by rage, Tanya's body twisted and transformed instantly, growing to almost nine feet and rippling with muscles. Spook was thrown backwards as the Shadow Lord assumed her _crinos_ form, but the Black Spiral was far from scared as he dropped into a low fighting crouch.

"Spook, come on, let's go!" Xavier ordered, still holding on to Brooke as she struggled to get free. Spook turned back to the Shadow Lord as Tanya howled in rage and finally tore free of her restraints.

"Next time," Spook promised with a huge, toothy grin. The he turned to run. "We'll do it doggy style, bi-atch!"

Tanya roared again and started after Xavier and Brooke, but the two bolted out onto the street. Tanya changed forms again into that of a large wolf, but by the time she reached the bottom of the steps, Bickle had come to the curb with a van and Xavier, Spook, and Brooke had all piled into the vehicle. On the steps, Callow let out a cross between a laugh and a howl, then charged down the steps to the van. Unable to change forms before the huge Black Spiral could reach her, Tanya was thrown out of the way with ma simple forearm shove by the ahroun. Jack pounced down the steps after his combatant, but Callow simply leapt on top of the van as it roared away from the curb.

"What the hell is going on?" Max suddenly exclaimed, rushing out of the front doors of the office building with his Glocks drawn. Reverting to their human forms, Tanya and Jack turned back to the ragabash.

"Xavier just took Brooke," the galliard stated simply.


	6. Set Them Up...

A Quick Word...

Well, it's been... a little while since I've updated this. Sorry about the exceedingly long wait between the installments for something that, I'll admit, is a bit of a simplistic story, but between everything that's happened over the past year, some writing burnout in the White Wolf fandom, long commutes that are only getting longer, and my preparations for the upcoming FDNY test, I've had my hands full. Hopefully, I'll be able to get this finished by the beginning of September, to at least put this thing to bed, if not get back in the writing frame of mind again. So for all of you that are actually waiting for this, enjoy. This chapter is only a setup, pretty much, but I think I should be able to get the big, obligatory fight scene done within a couple of weeks. So after a very long intermission, on with the show...

______________________________________________________________

"For a bunch of idiots, they pull off a good ambush."

"They do," Alexei agreed, looking back to Max as the young man gazed out over the view of Central Park from Karamov's penthouse apartment on Central Park West. After Brooke's violent kidnapping on the steps of Alexei's office building, the Shadow Lords had been forced to move to his apartment to avoid the mass of police and media that had thronged to the area. The Russian swirled the ice in his glass of bourbon for a moment as he considered the situation, then set the drink down on a coaster on his glass coffee table. "But we still don't know where they went."

"Probably to Nigel Chouinard," Max suggested in a faintly sarcastic tolongerne, turning away from the glass doors that led to a small balcony overlooking the park. Alexei scowled faintly at his younger packmate from his leather recliner.

"Who's Nigel Chouinard?" Tanya inquired, sitting on the plush white couch opposite the lawyer.

"Apparently, some kind of mage that's off his nut," Max replied, turning to the young woman. "He wants Brooke for some kind of summoning."

"Matt didn't see anything in her when he examined her aura," Tanya said, recalling their meeting with the Glass Walker earlier in the day. Alexei shrugged.

"The mage may simply be delusional," the Philodox decided. He paused for a moment. "Or maybe Matt was still drunk or high."

"That's always a possibility," Max remarked, though there was very little humor in his voice. The glass doors to the balcony opened then, and Jack walked into the apartment.

"We'll have company in about five minutes," the ahroun stated simply.

"Anyone we want to see?" Alexei inquired, not yet showing any concern over the news."

"Narducci, Abinanti, and Perillo," Jack answered, letting only a hint of disgust through in his voice.

"All three of them?" Max asked. "Including Jeremy?"

"Matt doesn't have a car, and Gerald got his license suspended," Tanya explained. "Besides, Jeremy knows everything a kinfolk could know. Just because he doesn't grow fur and claws, doesn't mean he's useless."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you actually liked him," Matt said with a bit of a smirk. Tanya rolled her eyes, but said nothing to deny the ragabash's accusation.

"Did Narducci tell you he was going to be dropping by?" Alex asked Tanya, ignoring the younger pair's banter.

"He didn't say anything to me," the galliard replied with a shrug. "He said he was going to check a few things with one or two of his elders, but that was about it."

"Jack, go let them in," Alexei said, gesturing to the door. A second later, a loud knock sounded outside.

"Good timing," Max said. Jack walked across the spacious living room and opened the door for the Glass Walkers. Matt and Jeremy walked into the living room, accompanied by a third, far larger Italian with close cut, peroxide blond hair and an assortment of tattoos running down his arms.

"You still got her, right?" Matt asked, turning immediately to Alex.

"Why?" the Shadow Lord inquired.

"I just found something really disturbing out," Matt answered. "So you still got her, right? She's in the bedroom or something, right? Just taking a rest after those Black Spirals ambushed your office, right?"

"She was kidnapped," Alex replied flatly. Matt ran a hand through his faintly long hair as he started to pace across the floor.

"Oh man, this is so not good," the theurge said. "Thi8s is really so not good. Do you know where they are?"

"No," Alex replied, standing. "Why don't you tell me what you know about her?"

"He didn't even tell us," Jeremy said. "Me and Gerald've been asking him for about half an hour, and he just keeps doing that retarded idiot savant shit."

"Oh man, this is so not good," Matt muttered again.

"Tell me why this is so not good," Alex said, finally grabbing the theurge by the arm and forcibly stopping his pacing. Matt looked up at him for a moment, then nodded.

"Okay," the Glass Walker finally said. "Well, when I looked at Brooke's aura, there was really nothing out of the ordinary about it, but it was still pretty noticeable in the Umbra. Now, most people, you can't see them from the Umbra., or at least not well. You know, the whole permanency thing and all that, separation of Spirit and Physical, and I have this theory on the spiritual decay of man linked-"

"Matt," Alex said. Matt stopped, and gathered his thoughts again.

"Oh yeah," the theurge said. "So, like I said, if you're looking pretty hard, you can make out human auras sometimes in the Umbra, at least if you're a theurge and are trained for this kind of thing and all. So anyway, when I could see her fairly easily, I thought maybe it was no big deal. I mean, sometimes a hangover'll do that to you. But I asked my old teacher about it, and you know what he said?"

"Surprisingly, no," Max said.

"She's a spiritual conduit!" Matt exclaimed. The living room fell into silence for a moment.

"So, this means, what?" Tanya asked, voicing the entire group's confusion. Matt looked around for a moment, finally realizing that no one understood his explanation.

"Oh," the Glass Walker said. "Okay. Well, every once in a while, otherwise normal people can be born with a kind of tie to the spirit world. I mean, nothing much, but if something traumatic happens to a mother in late term pregnancy, a kid could, theoretically, have a better tie to the spirit world. Most of the time they never know it, but a few are plagued by poltergeists or ghosts, which are really minor spirits tapping into their life force to manifest in the physical world for a short time. Most of the time, it's really harmless, and even kind of amusing."

"Most of the time," Alex repeated. Matt nodded.

"If you know how to do it, you can suck something really big and nasty out of the spirit world," the theurge said. "You'll end up killing the conduit, since you need the life force to manifest the nasty thing, but you could bring something really, _really_ bad into the world."

"This is so not good," Jeremy said, shaking his head.

"Don't you start, too," Gerald said, turning to the kinfolk.

"We were going to help you protect her, but now" Matt trailed off, looking to Alex for a long moment.

"Can you track a conduit by any means?" the philodox asked. Matt started to shake his head, but then stopped, lost in thought.

"I might," the theurge finally said. "But I'm going to have to alter a few rituals around."

"Then don't waste time talking to me," Alex directed.

___________________________________________________

"Please just let me go."

"Sorry, kid," Callow said, leaning back on a tattered, black couch in the middle of the otherwise deserted warehouse. "Can't do that."

"What do you want from me?" Brooke asked, desperately trying to pull her wrists free of the handcuffs that bound her hands behind a metal post in the middle of the huge, gutted building. While she had no idea where Xavier and his friends had taken her, she had the feeling that they were no longer in Manhattan. Callow shrugged as he considered the girl's question, then smiled slightly.

"You wouldn't happen to have a roast beef and pastrami hero and a large bag of salt and vinegar chips on you, would you?" the fat man inquired, sitting up slightly and looking marginally more attentive. Brooke hesitated for a long moment, unable to tell if the huge Black Spiral Dancer was serious.

"Fucker's always hungry," Spook said, startling the girl as he leaned on the post behind her. Brooke tried to move away from Callow's packmate, frightened by the overtly menacing gleam in the black man's eyes. "Pretty soon he ain't even gonna be able to stand up on his own. They'll need a crane to move his lard ass around."

"And I'll still be able to kick your skinny little ass all over the Bronx," Callow finished. "When can I go get something to eat? I'm bored as fuck."

"Well maybe we could play with her for a little while," Spook said with a faint grin as he gestured to Brooke. The girl froze for a moment, but Callow, fortunately, looked far less than interested in having to move off of the couch for anything other than food.

"Yeah, and Xavier'll get all upset about how she's all stretched out or something by the time he gets to her," the fat Black Spiral Dancer said with a hint of disgust. "Besides, he said not to do anything with her until Nigel shows up."

"Fuck Nigel," Spook said. "He can kiss my ass."

"You wouldn't be saying that if it was dark out," Callow said with a bit of a smirk. Spook's smile started to melt into a look of anger, but the smaller Spiral said nothing. Finally, he looked down at Brooke again, and regarded her for a few seconds. The girl tried to meet his gaze defiantly, but the man's stare seemed to burn right through her and forced her to turn away.

"Why don't you go get something to eat?" Spook suggested, finally looking up at Callow. The fat man considered the offer for a moment, but then shook his head.

"I'm comfortable where I am," he said simply. Spook flipped up his middle finger at the fat man, then stormed out of the warehouse. As the building fell silent behind the black man's departure, Brooke turned to her remaining captor.

"Thank you," she said. Callow looked up at the girl, and started to laugh a little.

"You don't know what a whiny little bitch Xavier can be when he doesn't get first crack," the fat man said. Brooke tried to smile, thinking that the comment was meant as a joke, but something in the man's eyes told her that he truly was more concerned with Xavier's reaction than her welfare.

______________________________________

"Are you sure that thing works?"

"Come on, Max, give it a rest," Matt Narducci said as he continued to watch the tiny screen on the palm pilot that he had taken from Alexei earlier in the day. "This ain't an exact science. I mean, it's part spiritual favors, part Glass Walker intuition, and part blind luck. Turn left here."

"I can't explain to you how much that reassures me," Max stated as he turned onto Amsterdam Avenue and continued north through Harlem. Max and Matt were the forward scouting team for the search party, following the directions, Max assumed, of a spirit that broadcast them to the theurge through Alexei's daily planner. The Shadow Lord glanced over to his smaller companion, but could see nothing other than a few words displayed across the palm pilot's screen. "Do we have a final destination, or are we just going to wander around the colored sections of the city for a while?"

"I'm getting directions," Matt said. "Stay on this until we get to the Macombs Bridge."

"I don't even think that spirit you're talking to has any idea where we're going," Max decided, turning back to the road.

"Don't insult it!" Matt exclaimed, turning to the ragabash. "If it hear you, it may not tell me where Brooke is!"

"Oh," Max said, a definite note of skeptical sarcasm in his voice. Matt shot an irritable glance over to the driver, but said nothing. "So, we're going to the Bronx?"

"Seems that way," Matt replied. The two sat in silence for another two minutes, until Matt leaned forward to turn on the radio.

"Don't touch that," Max said, not even taking his eyes off the road as they approached the Macombs Dam Bridge.

"Come on," Matt said, still leaning halfway forward to turn on the radio. "We've been sitting in silence since we left the office."

"I know," Max said. "We don't want to break the spirit's concentration, do we?"

"He can't hear it in the Umbra," Matt grumbled. Max chuckled slightly.

"Just to be on the safe side," the ragabash said. "Which way off the bridge? Up Jerome, or down to the South Bronx?"

"He says to head south on the Deegan," Matt answered. "South Bronx it is."

"I hate the South Bronx," Max muttered, turning onto the Major Deegan Expressway. "You know there's about eight bridges to the south of here that we could have taken."

"Hey, I'm just following this thing's directions," Matt explained, holding out the palm pilot. "Besides, you didn't want to take the Triborough. It's almost rush hour."

"And we're on the Deegan," Max observed as the traffic slowed to a crawl ahead of them. The two sat in silence again for a moment before the ragabash turned to his companion. "You said the spirit needs the victim's life force to manifest in htre spirit world?"

"Yeah," Matt replied, focusing on the palm pilot. "We could at least listen to the radio quietly."

"What happens if the conduit dies before the manifestation is complete?" Max inquired. Matt's eyes shot up instantly from the daily planner.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Matt demanded. "What the hell are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that maybe Brooke won't have enough life force or whatever it is bring a really, _really_ nasty thing into the physical world," Max answered. Matt narrowed his eyes for a long moment. "Really," the Shadow Lord replied. "I'm not going to shoot her or anything. I kind of like the girl. It's just too bad she wasn't five years older."

"I don't know," Matt said, still watching the ragabash. Max glanced over at him for a moment, then finally laughed.

"I may be an assassin, but I have scruples," the Shadow Lord remarked. Matt remained thoroughly skeptical "I don't kill kids."

Matt stared at the ragabash for another second, then looked down to the palm pilot again. Max chuckled one last time as he returned his full attention to his driving.

"Bam! We got it!" Matt suddenly exclaimed. "Canal Street and One Thirty-eighth! Step on it, driver!"

"Call Alex, and let him know where we're going," Max said, starting to fight his way across the crowded expressway. "And let's get this over with."

_________________________________________

"I'm really sorry, honey, but this is the only way."

"Please don't do this," Brooke begged, desperately seeking a way out of the nightmare that her life had become. Xavier leaned down over her, pinning her arms above her head while Spook clasped silver shackles around her wrists and Bickle similarly secured her ankles. Spread out on a crude altar of empty oil drums and wooden pallets, Brooke could only watch in fear as Callow lazily traced out a bizarre spiraling pattern on the ground around her in the fading light of the setting sun. "Please," Brooke pleaded, turning back to Xavier. "I'll do anything. Anything you want. Just please don't kill me."

"We're not gonna kill ya, ya ditzy bitch," Spook put in, tugging one of the chains to test its strength.

"Shut up, Spook," Bickle put in, glaring across the altar at his packmate. "She's going to be taking part in a very special occasion, so show her some respect."

"Trust me, Brooke, this is what you want," Xavier said, gazing down lovingly at the girl bound to the altar. "Do you remember when we first met? You were so disillusioned. You were nothing, a tiny part of nothing, and you so wanted to be more than you were. Now, you'll be remembered reverently whenever we speak of you. Your dreams are coming true."

"But this isn't what I want!" Brooke countered frantically. "I don't want to die, Xavier! Please don't kill me!"

"But we aren't going to kill you," Xavier replied, gently caressing her cheek. "We're not going to harm you in any way. We can't harm you. You need all your strength to do what must be done."

"What are you going to do with me?" Brooke asked, trying to slip her already bloody and torn wrists free of the shackles.

"Help you," Xavier said. "We're going to help you bring our lord into the world."

"Your lord?" Brooke repeated, confused and terrified. Spook nodded with an enthusiastic grin.

"Yeah," the black man agreed with a broad grin. "So stop squirming and just go with the flow, bi-atch."

"Hey Xavier," Callow called out, finished with his line painting. The fat Black Spiral Dancer was standing near a side door of the warehouse. "He's here."

"But it's not even dark yet!" Bickle exclaimed, turning to Callow. Callow simply shrugged.

"I guess it's a special occasion," the ahroun said with a thoroughly disinterested shrug. Xavier and Bickle glanced to each other for a moment. Even Spook, for all of his talk earlier in the day, fell into a tense silence.

"Who's here?" Brooke asked timidly, looking to Xavier.

"Nigel," the pack leader answered, his voice a nervous whisper.


	7. ...And Knock Them Down

Well, I'm working a little bit faster now. I just hope I'm not sacrificing any quality. But this thing has to get done sooner or later

Oh yeah. Sorry, Bystander, but at this point there is no way in hell I'm turning away from my last chance to get on the FDNY. My only worry is that I might not get a company in Brooklyn. Do you know what it would be like to work with the south shore companies on Staten Island? I'd go insane from the boredom

_________________________________________

After everything she had been through, she had expected Nigel to be a monster in the truest sense of the word. With near universal reaction of fear with the mere mention of his name, Brooke had expected the man to be a brutish, hulking terror from the fiery pits of hell itself. She certainly did not expect the person that slid easily past Callow and seemed to float into the room.

"Ah, Miss Farron," Nigel said, gliding across the rough, littered floor of the old warehouse with an almost feminine grace. The man was a far cry from large; he stood easily under six feet tall, his gaunt, slight build appeared almost frail beneath the black slacks and dress shirt that he wore. Nigel had to be an albino; the man's skin was a sickly pale, and his long, shining hair was a silvery white. Large, dark glasses shrouded his eyes, but Xavier's apparent leader removed them as he covered the last few feet to the makeshift altar. For a long moment the albino's pale blue eyes wandered across the girl's body, but Brooke could not be sure if he was aroused or repulsed by what he saw. Finally, Nigel took a step back, and smiled. "You look absolutely enchanting with all that silver jewelry. Has your stay been comfortable?"

"No," Brooke answered, glaring back at the man. Nigel's smile broadened slightly, but Brooke began to focus solely on the albino's dead blue eyes. A creeping sensation of dread started to filter into the girl's mind, even though the effeminate man had done or said nothing to evoke any fear.

"We kept her as comfortable as possible," Xavier said quietly, almost seeking to defend himself in light of his prisoner's accusation. Nigel turned his quiet, thoughtful smile on the Black Spiral Dancer as the pack leader spoke. "But she was a prisoner, and we couldn't let her escape."

"A wise decision," Nigel observed. Although his quiet, almost feminine voice did not rise in pitch or even volume, a sinister note had somehow crept into the albino's statement. Xavier unconsciously backed up half a step from the slight man before him, but Nigel was already turning his unsettling, dead blue eyes back to the girl shackled to the altar. "Now then, Miss Farron, I apologize for my associate's treatment of you, but, you see, we couldn't have you running off. You're a very, very special girl, Miss Farron."

"They they told me," Brooke informed the albino, trying and failing miserably to sound defiant. Nigel smiled, and turned back to the Black Spiral pack as a whole.

"We should get started," he said simply. "Mister Callow, if you would please retrieve the pair of gloves that are on the rear seat of my car?"

"Be right back," Callow said, foregoing his usual complaints about going anywhere when food was not directly involved. The ahroun actually hurried out into the darkening alley outside the warehouse. Nigel clasped his hands behind his back and whistled idly for a moment as he waited for the Black Spiral Dancer to return, seemingly unconcerned with preparing for the upcoming ritual. The hollow, windy sound of the albino's whistle seemed to cut through Brooke, sending chills up and down her spine.

"Don't don't we need to prepare anything else?" Bickle asked, finally finding his voice. "I mean don't we need some kind of summoning circle, or candles, or"

Bickle trailed off as Nigel stopped whistling and turned to the theurge. For a long moment the albino simply gazed with curious amusement at the Black Spiral Dancer.

"Would it make you feel better if I chalked out a pentagram on the floor?" Nigel finally inquired, stifling a faint giggle.

"Uh no, I not if we don't need it, I guess," Bickle stuttered, putting his eyes on the floor. Nigel laughed lightly, and put his arm around the theurge.

"Ah, Bickle, your pathetic Garou hedge magic is nothing compared to the pure power that I wield," Nigel explained, still speaking amiably. "The only focus I will need are my gloves, and here comes your companion with them now."

Callow reappeared in the darkening warehouse on cue, carrying a pair of leather gloves in his hand. Quickly the large ahroun handed the gloves to Nigel, then backed off next to Spook and watched as the mage slowly pulled the garments over his hands. Finally, the albino walked back to Brooke, and looked down at her with an almost sickeningly living expression.

"Don't be frightened, child," Nigel said, gently caressing the girl's cheek. "I promise that I won't hurt you."

"What are you going to do?" Brooke asked, holding her terror in check with the last reserves of her willpower. Nigel smiled sweetly, as if that was all the answer he needed to give.

Then he jammed his hand down her throat.

_______________________________________________

"Max, we gotta do something!"

"Where the hell is everyone?" Max demanded, keeping his voice to a whisper as he glanced over to Matt. The two Garou had managed to sneak into the warehouse undetected, and from their vantage point on a catwalk fifteen feet above the main floor, they could only watch in horrified fascination as the albino shoved his left arm to the elbow into Brooke's mouth. Brilliant, blue-white light spilled out of the girl's mouth and grotesquely lit the rest of her face from within as the mage seemed to be trying to grab hold of something in the pit of her stomach. Max was still sighting down his Dragunov sniper rifle, but he could not bring himself to do anything more than watch as Nigel continued to feel for something inside the girl.

"We can't wait any more, Max! Shoot him!" Matt practically shouted, shoving the ragabash in the arm. Snapped out of his stunned paralysis, Max sighted down the scope of his rifle again, taking steady aim between the mage's eyes. Slowly Max pulled the trigger, feeling the rush of holding the mage's life in his hands. With a slow exhalation of breath, Max sent his first round unerringly for Nigel's head.

The albino barely seemed to break concentration, but raised his right hand just as the round left the chamber. The bullet stopped a foot in front of Nigel's head, barely touching the palm of the mage's glove.

"It would appear we have guests," Nigel said quietly, finally looking up from the girl writing in silent agony on the altar in front of him. The Black Spirals flanking him had already turned to the two Garou on the catwalk, their faces twisting into masks of rage as they split up and rushed for each end of the catwalk.

"Okay, what now?" Max asked, turning to Matt as he lowered his rifle. The Black Spiral Dancers were already changing into their _crinos_ forms as they reached the stairwells on either end of the catwalk, but none of the four made a move to climb up to the intruders. Nigel still held his right hand out in front of him, but now the 7.62mm bullet was spinning to face the two young men on the catwalk.

"I think ducking might be a good idea," Matt suggested simply.

The two Garou dropped to the metal floor of the catwalk a heartbeat before Nigel sent the bullet back to its original shooter. The round whined off of the metal railing as it ricocheted straight up, then rattled through the steel supports as it began to shatter the bolts and clips that held the platform in place. Max quickly sighted again as he felt the catwalk begin to sway.

"Let's try two, asshole," the ragabash said evenly, squeezing the trigger. Nigel smiled as the Shadow Lord opened fire, easily deflecting the first bullet to the side and then drawing his hand back and slapping the second round straight back at the sniper. Max and Matt both dropped back to the ground, nearly jarring the catwalk loose in their hurry to avoid the incoming round.

"Stop doing that!" Matt shouted angrily. The new bullet screamed off of something to their left, and the catwalk let out a final, tortured shriek as it broke loose of its moorings.

"Oops," Max said, shrugging as he turned to Matt. The catwalk pitched forward and crashed to the ground floor, carrying the two Garou down to the waiting Black Spiral Dancers. Max and Matt both switched to their _crinos_ forms a split second before they landed, but one ragabash and one theurge would be no match for four Black Spirals. Xavier's pack rushed the pair before they could completely recover from the fall, intent on eliminating the threat to the ritual as quickly as possible. Behind the Black Spirals, Nigel ripped his arm out of Brooke's mouth, releasing crackling plumes of vermilion energy into the warehouse.

__________________________________________________

"You sure you want to do this?"

"Sure I'm sure," Jeremy said with a smile, leaning out of the driver side window of the Chevy Suburban he and the Shadow Lords had liberated from northern Harlem. Standing just outside the vehicle, Tanya actually appeared to be somewhere on the verge of concerned for the kinfolk's safety. Jeremy pointed to the ancient, decaying warehouse, barely lit in the gathering darkness by a few old, battered sodium lamps at the edges of the broken parking lot. "The walls are sheet metal with wooden supports. I'll tear through it like it wasn't even there."

"And it would be nice if you were to do that today," Alexei stated, walking up next to the galliard. Starkly contrasted against the dark sky, the few windows of the warehouse were brilliantly illuminated by blue and crimson lights, and the sounds of something huge and metal smashing to the ground. Jeremy glanced to the rear of the vehicle, where Gerald and Jack were waiting to leap off of the truck as soon as it cleared the front wall.

"Alright boss," the kinfolk said, ducking back inside the Suburban. Jeremy clasped his seatbelt quickly, then gunned the engine. "Hang on, boys! We goin' for a ride!"

Jeremy let up on the brake and slammed the truck into gear, catapulting the Suburban across the parking lot and rapidly gaining speed as he approached the wall. The speedometer read fifty as the kinfolk smashed through the wall, barely losing speed as he smashed his way into the warehouse. Sheet metal rode up and over the front of the vehicle, obscuring Jeremy's vision for only a heartbeat before he could make out the Black Spiral Dancers clustered on his left in their assault on Max and Matt. The kinfolk turned sharply to the right for only a moment, launching his two passengers out at the corrupted werewolves. Behind him, Alex and Tanya raced into the warehouse in their _crinos_ forms, but Jeremy barely even slowed as he straightened out the Suburban and took aim at a new target. Only a few yards ahead of him, Nigel was pulling torrents of energy out of Brooke's mouth, not paying attention to anything other than the swirling clouds of light around him.

The mage turned at the last moment, irritably waving one hand at the onrushing truck. In an instant a solid wall of concrete had erupted from the floor, but Jeremy was far too close to even brake. The Suburban hit the wall at sixty-one, collapsing the sudden barrier on the hood of the vehicle even as it crumpled under the impact. The SUV crashed to a halt only six feet away from Nigel, buried under a mound of concrete.

The Suburban had barely come to a halt when Tanya vaulted over the destroyed vehicle, bearing down on Nigel before he could ready another spell. Alexei was closing in just as rapidly from the side, skirting the remains of the concrete wall, but Nigel seemed only to notice the black furred galliard as she leapt toward him. Only a heartbeat before her claws ripped into the mage's chest, Nigel simply disappeared, teleporting three feet to his left. Surprised by the sudden move, Tanya flew past the mage and crashed unceremoniously into the floor even as jagged shards of silver poked up out of the concrete, slicing through the werewolf's fur and skin like razors even as the metal burned her half wolf form. The galliard through the trap with a howl of pain, but Alex had already cleared Brooke and the makeshift altar, his glass klaive leading the way as he bore down on the mage. Nigel pointed to the ceiling fore the briefest instant, then quickly hopped back as an old, heavy steel light slammed down on the charging Shadow Lord. While the light did little to seriously injure the monstrous Garou, the concrete floor suddenly reached up and grabbed the philodox' arms and legs, trying to drag him back down into the ground. As the Shadow Lord struggled to pull free of the concrete restraints, Nigel stalked forward with a cold smile on his face. A blade of condensed air shimmered in the mage's right hand as he stopped over the helpless Garou.

"So sad," Nigel said simply, drawing his arm back. Alex tried one last time to pull free of his concrete restraints, but the mage's blade was already descending toward his neck.

Six bullets tore into the mage's chest.

Nigel stopped and looked down at the blood pouring out of his wounds in confusion, trying for a long moment to figure out exactly what had happened. Finally the mage collapsed to the ground, and the concrete crumbled to dust around Alex's arms and legs. As the philodox regained his feet, he finally found the shooter. Jeremy gave one last, pain wracked smile through a mask of blood before he slid down the side of the Suburban to the ground. Still badly torn by her landing in a field of glass blades, Tanya dragged herself to the unconscious kinfolk's side, checking quickly for a pulse. Alex turned back to Brooke, confident that whatever magick Nigel had used on her would die along with the wizard.

Instead, the light and energy the girl was expelling was only growing more out of control.

______________________________________________

Max had thought that he and Matt would die at the hands of the four Black Spiral Dancers and their mage master, but in the space of a second everything had changed. Jack and Gerald joined the fight with an explosive entrance as they rolled out of the truck and into Spook and Bickle, while Tanya and Alex made a mad dash for Nigel and his prisoner. Bickle's menacing snarl became a high pitched shriek of terror as Jack descended on the Black Spiral Dancer theurge, while Gerald barreled into Callow with all the force he could muster. Max had little time to cheer on his comrades, however, as Xavier pushed forward with all the speed and strength his rage could muster, swinging his pitted steel klaive in vicious arcs and forcing the ragabash back with every step. Clearly outclassed by the ahroun, Max could not even hazard a counter on his enemy as Xavier forced him farther and farther back, intent on pinning him in a corner and systematically ripping him to pieces. Just beyond the twisted remains of the catwalk, Jack was having great success against Bickle as the Black Spiral Dancer desperately searched for a chance to flee the huge Shadow Lord, but Gerald was already on the losing side of his fight with Callow as the far larger Black Spiral Dancer slammed the smaller Glass Walker ahroun to the ground. Even farther back, behind the remains of the metal walkway, Matt had called upon a spirit ally to aid in his battle against Spook, and a crackling spirit of pure electricity that constantly changed its shape fought by his side against the Black Spiral Dancer ragabash.

The rapid gunshots surprised all eight combatants as they heard it, and both Xavier and Max turned quickly to the altar and the mage beyond it. Nigel staggered backwards as he feebly tried to hold the wounds in his chest closed, while Jeremy slid into unconsciousness along the side of the Suburban. The mage's death seemed to hold all of the Garou transfixed for a moment; Gerald scrambled back to his feet as Callow turned in shock on the new development, but the Glass Walker did not take advantage of a clear shot at the Black Spiral Dancer's back as he too watched the mage die. Bickle, so deathly terrified of Jack that he was practically climbing up the side of the building to escape the huge Shadow Lord's wrath, stopped and stared, open mouthed, as quickly as Jack ceased his pursuit. Even the electricity spirit that Matt had summoned seemed to realize that something momentous had occurred, or at least waited for its stunned master to order it to continue its assault.

Nigel finally fell to the ground, but the swirls of light only became more intense and wild with his death. Bickle took a single step forward, drawing even with Jack, as he watched the energy sweep through the open warehouse floor and slowly start to coalesce above Brooke.

"It worked!" Bickle suddenly howled out, breaking the spell that seemed to hold all the Garou transfixed. The Black Spiral Dancer raced forward as the clouds of light took a more solid form, and a purely draconian head began to emerge from the swirling energy. "It's finally here!"

"What the hell is that" Max breathed out, forgetting that Xavier was the only Garou that could hear him. The corrupted pack leader turned back to the ragabash, his lips pulled back in a cold, sinister grin.

"That," Xavier growled out, "is a Zmei."


	8. Two Packs, One Zmei

Well, I finally got it through. These last two chapters have been kind of short, but they just deal with one fight.

I know someone'll probably say something, so I make this disclaimer before I continue. I don't know very much about a Zmei and what it can do. I just know that they happen to be bad ass on a Biblical level. So, I used my own poetic (pathetic? One or the other) license and made it well, bad ass. I didn't have the time, money, or initiative to buy every White Wolf book, especially since Rein-Hagen basically ruined Werewolf in Third Edition (really, why would I want to play a game if you tell me that I lost before I even make my character? At least in Second Edition you thought you might have a snowball's chance in hell).

Anyway, enough of me. You guys have been waiting long enough for some closure on this deal

________________________________________________

"Rajah Baltazo, Master of Fires, welcome to Gaia!" Bickle shouted out, throwing himself to his knees in front of the coalescing form. The draconian head turned to the Black Spiral Dancer as he threw himself to his knees. "O Lord of Smoke and Destruction, we-"

The theurge never had the chance to finish his greeting. Rajah Baltazo's mouth opened to emit a gout of horrifying green flames, burning the Black Spiral Dancer's hair off in an instant and hurling Bickle back into the far wall. Matt and Spook both dodged out of the way as Bickle slammed into the sheet metal wall and collapsed into the wreckage of the catwalk.

"I thought that thing was on your side," Max said quietly, edging up to Xavier's side. The Black Spiral Dancer turned back to the Shadow Lord, shrugging in confusion.

"I guess he's disoriented," Xavier concluded. Then he glanced back to Spook. "Is Bickle still alive?"

"Unfortunately, yes," the corrupted ragabash answered, still awestruck by the Zmei. Rajah Baltazo's head snapped around to the majority of the combatants, and tongues of balefire started to drip from the scaly monster's mouth.

"Grab him and let's get out of here!" Xavier shouted, his voice shrill with fear. Rajah Baltazo roared in fury, and blasted a torrent of balefire at the assembled Garou.

Max took off in an instant, diving left as the wave of balefire tore through the warehouse. The ragabash felt his fur burning away across his back as he crashed through a pile of empty, burning wooden crates, but the Shadow Lord managed to come back to his feet with only minor wounds. Max jumped back to his feet, hoping to see that his companions had survived the brutal torrent of flames, but instead found himself staring into a sea of sickly green flames.

"Max!" Alexei shouted. Max whirled quickly, peering through the unnatural conflagration until he saw the philodox wildly waving the ragabash to him from a relatively protected alcove on the other side of the warehouse. Rajah Baltazo still occupied the center of the warehouse, but for the moment the Zmei's sinister golden eyes were locked on Xavier and his pack as they fled through the front door. Max raced across the warehouse, hoping that the Blur of the Milky Eye would keep him from being seen by the dragon dominating the burning building, but the Zmei was too intent on incinerating the Black Spiral Dancers to bother with him for the moment. Max dove behind a few empty crates as Rajah Baltazo launched a final gout of fire on the Black Spiral Dancers, but the ragabash could not tell if Xavier and his allies were consumed in the flames. Tanya and Jeremy were both hidden away behind Alexei, but Jeremy was on the verge of death and Tanya had nearly been torn apart. Matt stumbled back to the group a second later, his _crinos_ form badly burned from the Zmei's initial attack.

"It's still weak," the theurge gasped out, holding his side where a particularly bad burn had seared off the skin. "There might still be time."

"We just got our asses kicked in three seconds," Max countered, turning on the theurge. Rajah Baltazo roared in fury, washing the front of the warehouse in another wave of virulent green fire. "How can it still be weak?"

"If it wasn't, we'd all be dead," Alexei said calmly. "We have to stop that thing before it gets any more powerful. Where are Gerald and Jack?"

"Didn't see them," Max replied, glancing back to the sea of green flames rapidly eating through the warehouse wall.

"Healed Gerald," Matt informed the group in an agonized voice, growing more delirious from the pain. Normal fires were one of the few things that could truly harm a Garou, but the radioactive balefire of the Wyrm was far worse, inflicting radiation wounds as well as horrible burns from its superheated flames. Matt stumbled to one knee, but nearly collapsed before he caught his balance against the wall. "Jack's okay, I think."

"We have to do something," Alexei said, taking quick stock of his mauled companions. The philodox turned back to his younger packmate, a cold, emotionless expression on his lupine features. "I'm going to distract it," the pack leader finally said. "When I do, you have to get to Brooke and kill her."

"We can't kill her!" Matt wheezed, hearing the plan and regaining some coherence. Rajah Baltazo roared in the center of the room, its black and gray body quickly beginning to solidify as more and more energy poured out of Brooke's mouth. The dragon was already almost twenty feet long, its monstrous body supported by six massive legs that ended in taloned feet, and with each passing second the thing seemed to grow even larger. "She didn't do anything!"

"We don't have time to argue about this," Max warned, his eyes on the Zmei as it continued to draw strength from the girl.

"You have a better plan, I'm open to it," Alexei said. Matt opened his mouth to speak, but had no other ideas. "She's the conduit to the spirit world," the philodox surmised. "If we kill her, we cut off the Zmei from its power. Right?"

"Right," Matt admitted, looking away.

"All right," Alexei said. He nodded to Max. "You won't have much time, so be ready to run."

Alexei measured the distance to the Zmei for another second, then rushed forward with his klaive in hand. Rajah Baltazo turned just as the philodox reached him, opening its mouth to breathe out another torrent of balefire on the defiant Garou. Alexei dropped and rolled left as the dragon launched its assault, managing to avoid the large majority of the balefire. Still Rajah Baltazo continued to unleash a wave of flame, chasing the Shadow Lord across half of the warehouse as it tried to destroy the Garou. Alexei's fur began to burst into flame as the dragon closed the distance, but the Zmei could not catch up to the sprinting lupine. As soon as the Zmei's head was turned away from him, Max rushed forward to carry out his order.

Brooke was still writhing on the altar as Max reached her, straining against her silver shackles as she desperately tried to scream in pain through the roaring spiritual energy rushing through her body. Max reached her unseen; Alexei was still sprinting across the warehouse, counting on his gift of Luna's Armor to save him from any fire that managed to burn him. Max leaned down quickly over the helpless teenager, reaching out to tear out her throat before she could unleash any more of the creature's malevolent spirit into the warehouse.

Brooke's eyes shot open as she saw the ragabash leaning over her, apparently recognizing him for who he was. The girl's eyes conveyed her pleas for help even as she tried to form words through the torrent of energy in her mouth. Max hesitated for a second, then closed his eyes.

"There's no other way," he said quietly. The ragabash tore through her throat, ripping her arteries open and shearing through her windpipe. Within a few seconds, Brooke was dead, and the energy pouring out of her trickled away to nothing.

"Max, move it!" Tanya suddenly shouted. The ragabash looked up in time to see Rajah Baltazo's furious eyes turning on him, balefire licking up along the oily black scales of its face. Max glanced around him for a split second, trying to find cover, then thought better of the idea and rushed straight forward. He had no chance of escaping the dragon's fiery breath if he ran, but the Zmei might not be fast enough to hit him before he took cover beneath the monster's chest. The ragabash hurled himself beneath the Zmei with every bit of speed he could muster, but Rajah Baltazo still managed to severely burn the _crinos_ from the waist down. Howling in pain as he hit the floor, Max could not even stand on his seared legs to escape another attack. Rajah Baltazo took a single step back on its huge, powerful legs, ready to immolate the crippled Shadow Lord, and Max could swear that the Zmei was smiling cruelly down at him as it prepared a final gout of balefire.

The killing flames, however, never came.

Alexei slammed into the beast first, throwing one arm around the Zmei's neck as he stabbed away with his klaive. Jack and Gerald both rushed forward from the wreckage of the catwalk where they had taken cover from Rajah Baltazo's first attack, slamming into the dragon even as it swiped at Alexei with its forelegs. Even Tanya, only partially healed by Matt's gifts, threw herself headlong into the bull rush, clawing away at the monster's flank as it tried to deal with Alexei.

Rajah Baltazo screamed in fury at its enemies, bucking wildly and throwing Alexei clear with a violent shake. The philodox had not even crashed into the burning wall when the Zmei snapped viciously at Gerald, coming close to tearing off the younger ahroun's arm in its fiery mouth. Gerald fell back, trying to keep his arm attached to his body, but the Zmei was already turning to Jack as the Shadow Lord ahroun drew his arm back for another strike with his ebon mace. At the same instant the beast lashed out with its powerful tail, slamming Tanya through the wall behind it. Jack snarled in rage as he hurled himself straight at the Zmei, ignoring the imminent rush of fire from the dragon's mouth.

Rajah Baltazo unleashed its torrent of fire even as Jack struck. Thunder blasted through the roar of the flames as the Shadow Lord's mace crashed through the side of the Zmei's mouth, smashing its jaw and shattering its huge, jagged teeth. The Zmei threw its head up in pain as Jack fell to the ground, desperately trying to put out the flames covering his body before the flames could kill him. With singleminded fury the Zmei turned back to the charred ahroun and slammed a massive, clawed foot down on him, nearly driving him through the concrete floor.

Gerald and Alexei both rushed back in on the assault, coming to Jack's rescue before the Zmei could grind the life out of him. Still horribly injured, Gerald nonetheless threw himself straight at the Zmei's throat in a desperate attempt to rip out the Zmei's windpipe, while the badly burned Alexei ducked beneath Rajah Baltazo's belly and drove his klaive straight up into the dragon's stomach. The Zmei slammed its belly into the ground, hoping to crush the Shadow Lord, but it succeeded only in driving Gerald's claws even deeper into its throat. Black ichor sprayed out over the two combatants as Alexei and Gerald continued to tear away at the dragon's sides. Even Max tried to hobble back to his feet, slashing feebly at the leg that still pinned Jack to the ground. 

Rajah Baltazo shrieked in pain and fury, finally throwing all of its combatants away in a desperate, whirling attack. Jack and Max slammed side by side into one wall, crashing through the badly weakened barrier and skidding out into the parking lot. Alexei was hurled almost straight into the air, crashing through the ceiling and landing on a roof in serious danger of collapsing. Gerald slammed back into the wreckage of the catwalk, only inches away from impaling himself on a broken metal pipe. With its attackers down and quite possibly dead, Rajah Baltazo screamed a call of triumph into the air.

"Rajah Baltazo!" Matt suddenly shouted. The Zmei turned back on the newest threat, its golden eyes narrowing as it regarded the Garou standing before it. By the looks of his injuries, Matt should not have even been able to stand, but the theurge stalked forward as he locked gazes with the dragon. "You have killed me!" the Glass Walker screamed, pointing up to the far larger Zmei. "I am burning to death because of you! And for that, I kill you!"

Rajah Baltazo began to strike, wanting to rend the Glass Walker in its teeth, but it never got the chance as the entire warehouse imploded on it.

__________________________________________________

"Holy shit."

"Holy shit is right," Callow said, watching the warehouse collapse in on itself. The Black Spiral Dancers had wanted to watch the Zmei tear through the South Bronx, spreading death and destruction in its wake, but they had also decided to watch from the roof of a tenement almost six blocks away from the dangerous Wyrm spirit. Within a few seconds, the entire building had simply imploded in a shower of metal, wood and balefire. A thick plume of noxious, oily black smoke rose from the devastation, but Callow could see no indication that any of the combatants had survived the violent collapse. Standing next to the fat ahroun, Xavier shook his head in disbelief. "How did they do that?"

"What are we gonna do with this fucker?" Spook asked from behind the pair. Xavier turned back to the ragabash and the scorched Bickle, saying nothing for a long moment.

"I thought Rajah Baltazo knew who his followers were, Bickle," the pack leader said, folding his arms across his chest. Bickle looked up from the roof shrugged, tears in his eyes. "I thought he wouldn't attack any followers of Beast of War."

"I don't know what happened," the theurge whimpered, wiping his eyes with one burned hand. "I he why?"

"Fuckin' dick," Spook growled, standing up and looking out over the Bronx. "Fucker said we'd be he Rajah's right hand here."

"Maybe he thought we killed Nigel," Bickle sniveled, trying to hold back his tears. Then the theurge collapsed into a gibbering wreck, sobbing openly over the Zmei's less than enthusiastic reaction to his followers.

"Did they actually kill it?" Callow suddenly asked, still watching the warehouse ruins. Sirens were approaching in the distance as the police and fire departments responded to the disaster, but Rajah Baltazo had either been killed or banished back to its own realm. For a long moment Xavier, Callow, and Spook all watched the smoking remains, waiting for any signs of life from the Zmei or the Gaian Garou.

"They couldn't have," Xavier finally decided. "I mean, there were only six of them, and one kinfolk. Rajah Baltazo could take twice that many."

"Then where the fuck is he?" Spook demanded, turning on his pack leader. Xavier turned to Callow, but the ahroun simply shrugged his shoulders. For a long moment the three Black Spiral Dancers watched the ruins in silence, while Bickle continued to weep behind them.

"Pick him up," Xavier finally ordered, turning and gesturing to the theurge. "We're getting out of here."

"Should we see if Karamov or any of his lackeys are still alive?" Callow inquired, taking one last look at the wreckage before he started after his pack leader. Xavier turned back to the ahroun, an obvious note of anger on his face.

"Do you really think they could have survived that?"


	9. Epilogue

****

Epilogue

"You're finally up."

"What… happened?" Jeremy asked, trying to focus on anything around him. The kinfolk had no recollection of anything past his collapse in the warehouse, but if the bright lights and silvery blurs around him were any clue, he was no longer in that building.

"We managed to put Rajah Baltazo down," Tanya said from somewhere nearby. Jeremy managed to move his head enough to finally see the galliard sitting next to the bed that he occupied.

"Ra… what?" Jeremy asked, confused. Tanya smiled, but winced as she aggravated a huge bruise across most of the right side of her face and a set of stitches in her lip. Jeremy finally realized that Tanya was sitting in a wheelchair and dressed in a hospital gown, and that her arms were wrapped in heavy bandages from just above her elbows all the way to her fingers. As the galliard noticed Jeremy's shocked expression, she tried to shrug.

"We got beaten, badly," Tanya explained. "Matt was unconscious, and couldn't heal anyone. Gerald's two rooms down the hall, I'm one floor up, and Jack and Alex are on the floor below. Of course, you're the worst out of all of us. Six broken ribs, two broken legs, severe concussion, a few burns… you were in surgery for eight hours. I can't even figure how you got out of the car to shoot Nigel."

"What… what about Matt?" Jeremy asked, growing rapidly concerned. "What happened to him?"

"He got broken out last night," Tanya replied. She tried to reach forward to pat Jeremy's arm in reassurance, but her injuries and bandages forced her to stop. Jeremy breathed out a sigh of relief as he heard that his cousin was still alive. "Some of the older Glass Walkers are pulling strings to get us released before someone starts asking questions. Then it'll be up to Alex to finish covering this up." Tanya hesitated for a moment, then continued. "I don't know how he's going to do that, but he always manages."

"Oh," Jeremy said, leaning back on his pillow. "What about Brooke?"

"She… didn't make it," Tanya said, hesitant. Jeremy knew that there was more to the story, but the normally talkative galliard simply put her eyes on the floor, and said nothing more.

"So, what happened?" Jeremy asked. Tanya looked up at the kinfolk, seemingly reluctant to answer. "I mean, did we stop those Black Spirals, or what?" Jeremy clarified, seeing her unease.

"Nigel managed to bring a Zmei into the warehouse through Brooke," Tanya explained. "And, before you ask, a Zmei is a big Wyrm spirit, the ones that spawned the original legends of dragons. Fortunately, we… managed to keep it from gathering all of its strength, but it still mauled all of us. Your cousin managed to kill it."

"Matt?" Jeremy asked, trying to turn his head. Pain shot up and down the kinfolk's body at the sudden movement, forcing Jeremy to drop his head back to his pillow. "How… but he couldn't kill a fly!"

"We would have said that about you, before you put six rounds in Nigel's chest," Tanya said with a touch of humor. "But, it was Matt. We roughed it up first, especially Gerald, Alex, and Jack, but Matt managed to get the spirit of the warehouse to commit to a last, suicidal attack before it died."

"You're telling me that a warehouse committed suicide," Jeremy said. "Do you know how stupid that sounds?"

"Everything has a spirit, Jeremy," Tanya said. "You live with Matt. You should know that. Anyway, Matt managed to get into the Umbra while we kept the Zmei distracted, and bargained with the warehouse to kill the Zmei in a collapse."

"You don't know how crazy you sound, do you?" Jeremy inquired flatly. Tanya laughed slightly at the comment, but quickly brought her mirth under control as she irritated her myriad injuries.

"Truth is stranger than fiction," the galliard finally explained. "Anyway, we were lucky. The Zmei was never able to get to full strength."

"It sounds like it did to me, if you had to collapse a building on it to kill it," Jeremy remarked.

"I talked to Alex before," Tanya said. "He said we got really lucky. It was only at about ten percent strength."

"Ten percent," Jeremy repeated. "You serious?"

"Dead serious," Tanya answered. This time, there was no humor in her voice. For a long moment, the two sat in silence as Jeremy tried to fathom the power of a Zmei at full strength.

"So, are there any more of these things?" Jeremy finally asked. Tanya hesitated for a long moment.

"A dozen, or so the stories say," the galliard replied at last. "And these days, they're stronger than ever."

"Well, that makes me feel so much better," Jeremy said, gingerly turning his head to look at the Shadow Lord.

"You asked," Tanya reminded the kinfolk. "I have to get going. I'm getting out of here tonight, so I have to say goodbye to my doctor. Twenty-nine and single. I could live with that. He got me this remote control wheelchair so I could come down and say hi to you."

"Goodbye, Tanya," Jeremy said, waving the Shadow Lord away with his one uninjured arm before she could tell him anything else about her doctor. Tanya gave the wounded kinfolk one last smile, and then carefully nudged the controls of her chair.

"Try to get better soon," Tanya called out over her shoulder. Jeremy watched as the galliard disappeared into the hall, then turned his eyes back to the ceiling.

"I need better friends," the kinfolk decided.


End file.
